


High Rollers

by netherfields, yossarians



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 70s music, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, F/M, Marauders, Multi, Rape Culture, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-01-22 02:40:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 158,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1573109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/netherfields/pseuds/netherfields, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yossarians/pseuds/yossarians
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one expected pretty little Elsea Holmes to be the mastermind behind the elaborate Hogwarts drug ring. Especially not Remus Lupin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Magic Man

**Author's Note:**

> We tried to keep things close to the actual timeline. We are both Americans and have a limited knowledge of the UK in the late 1970s. In addition, there is quite a bit of recreational drug use in this story...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve heard.” The way she’s speaking reminds him of Sirius. “But I also heard that the prices are way high right now. So it’s probably not worth it.”

Elsea Holmes loves her brother dearly.

"So you mean," Stan says, scratching his head and adjusting his headband. "We just walk through this wall?"

He's just a bit thick is all.

"Yes, for fuck’s sake," Elsea reminds him for what must be the tenth time in the hour. "We walk through the bloody wall."

 _And_ perpetually surrounded by a cloud of smoke.

"Woah, woah, woah little lady, no need for that language around here," Stan warns, bopping Elsea on the nose. She swats his hand away, looking helplessly at Paisley Watson, her brother’s longtime girlfriend. She might be just as much of a grass loving, free spirited hippie as Stan is, but at least she’s got _some_ sense.

"Stan quit it," Paisley warns, she always sounds like she's singing when she talks. The way her long, uncombed hair jostles as she speaks adds to the melody. "You're disrupting the peace."

Some being the operative word. Paisley only has _some_ sense. She is dating Elsea’s brother, after all. Not that Stan isn’t attractive; before the long hair, the beard, and the blisters on his feet, Stan used to be the best-looking guy in his sixth form. Before he dropped out and started growing his own grass.

Stan puts his arm around his girlfriend, smiling apologetically and kissing her forehead. Elsea isn't exactly sure what Paisley's on about, considering the fact that the hustle and bustle of King’s Cross station is anything but peaceful, but she isn't going to complain about anything that shuts her mouthy brother up. _That’s_ what she calls keeping the peace.

"I'm gonna..." Elsea starts, lifting her floral suitcase from the concrete. If she's learned anything from living with Stan and Paisley, it’s that their little cuddle session will turn into a full-fledged snog fest if she doesn’t act as quickly as possible. "I'm going to get going now. You can come if you can fathom walking through a wall, Stanley.”

Stan frowns. His face squishes so that he looks like a rather perturbed woodchuck. "Hey, listen up. We aren't all mystical wizkids with super witch powers, so I apologize if I find the fact that I can walk through a bloody brick wall a _bit_ far-fetched, man."

Elsea pats her brother sympathetically on the shoulder. "Poor Stan, maybe you'll finally get your Hogwarts letter next year?"

She remembers Stan coming home late on holiday weekends, drunk from some party, rambling on about how Hogwarts must have terribly messed up, seeing as he never got his letter. At first, Elsea felt a bit bad for him, but after he vomited all over her carpet, she didn’t have much sympathy.

"I have all the magic I need in my life right here." He looks fondly at Paisley and catches her lips with his in a way that's completely nauseating.

"Ugh." Elsea clutches her stomach. "I’ve had just about enough of that for a lifetime.”

Her summer holidays consisted of tidying the house, weighing her products, and making sure her idiot brother and his stoned girlfriend didn’t set their house on fire. Her parents, who moved to the States at the beginning of the summer, sent letters every few weeks updating on their travels. It took everything she had to force a smile at her brother’s antics when she saw that her mother and father were having such a great time.

Stan and Paisley continue to snog and Elsea sees it’s her turn to leave. “See you on the other side,” she says.

She turns on her heels and starts towards the barrier, but a hand clutches onto her wrist and pulls her back. Elsea falters slightly, now caught in the sweaty, stinky arms of her feral older brother. She tries to fight him off, slamming her elbow into his stomach. The last thing she wants to do is to start her final year at Hogwarts smelling like cannabis and hot dogs. But Stan has a surprisingly good grip and Elsea might have a bit of a soft spot for him, no matter how awful he reeks. She lets him get his hug.

“Be safe this year, Els,” he mumbles, just quietly enough so Elsea can barely hear him. She nods absentmindedly and starts to pull away, but not before Stan’s hand finds hers and presses a small plastic baggie into her palm. “And a little herbal refreshment, to get you through that awful train ride.”

“You bastard,” Elsea says, but she still accepts, shoving her new possession into her coat pocket. Not that she doesn’t have her own supply in her bag right now. “I’ll send you an owl when I get to school, okay?”

Stan nods while Paisley looks on happily.

“ _Remember_ to write.”

Stan nods again.

“I’m serious. It’s important and I can’t have you flaking out on me at a time like this.”

God knows what kind of trouble Stan would get himself in without her. He could get killed. Or worse, sober. Well, she’d be a bit pleased if he was sober at least once in awhile.

“God, would you _leave_ ,” Stan groans good-naturedly. “I’ll write you. I promise. I’ll send you pens because I know you hate using the ridiculous feather thingies too.”

Elsea smiles at him. “They’re called quills. And thank you. Send the good ones too, no pencils.”

“Deal,” Stan says, pushing her towards the brick wall. “Now piss off, Els.”

“Laters!” Elsea shouts, backing into the brick wall. “Remember to lock your door! And don’t do drugs!”

All Elsea can hear as she’s pushing through the platform is laughter. She slides to a stop, brushing her hair away from her eyes and looking around. It doesn’t take her long to spot her friends: a rather shady looking group of posh rich kids with blood-shot eyes and dopey expressions.

-.-

As soon as his parents usher him out of the car, Remus Lupin feels the familiar wave of freedom wash over him. In the crowded King’s Cross station there are nothing but rushing families around him; he sees muggles and wizards and witches alike, not minding one another, desperate to get to their trains on time. He’s one of them, a mere fish in the pond. No different.

Well, as far as they knew.

He pushes his trolley past several platforms and remembers he left his favorite quill on his desk in his room. Oh well, he’ll just have to do without it. He thinks about bothering his mum with a letter a few days into the term but doesn’t want to worry her when she sees the tawny old owl on their windowsill. After all, quick letters from home from their only son usually meant one thing: trouble. And they’ve had enough of his troubles to last a lifetime.

Remus quickly pushes his trolley through the barrier of Platform 9 and 3/4, eager to enter the peace and serenity of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The castle walls have always provided a defensive barricade from the outside world. Amidst the terror and bloodshed brewing in Britain, Remus can’t help but feel rather cowardly that he craves protection.

He pushes past a crowd of Hufflepuff girls reuniting for the first time in months and doesn’t bother to chat with any of the students who greet him with a smile. He’s friendly, but inside he’s itching to see his friends.

All summer he’s had nothing but their letters and the lyrics to _Wish You Were Here_ to keep him company. Not when Dumbledore urged them to stay in their houses over the summer, to be safe and not to wander. He had a particularly nasty full moon over July and was sick for nearly three weeks. James and Sirius were abroad with the Potters, and Peter’s mother made him stay home, terrified for his safety.

“Hi, Remus!”

His eyes cast sideways as a leggy, beautiful redhead girl struts over, a shiny Head Girl badge pinned to her blouse. Remus’ face spreads into a grin as he opens his arms for a hug.

“Come here, you.”

Lily Evans pulls away and holds him at arm’s length. Her big green eyes sparkle excitedly as she takes him in. Remus has a few new scratches on his arms (a rather nasty one on his back that he thanks Merlin is hidden underneath his jumper), but he’s otherwise healthy. The last time Lily saw him, he looked pale and thin. He’s filled out a bit.

“You look great,” she says, tucking an orange strand of hair behind her ear. “How was your summer?”

Remus forces a smile. “It was fine. Boring. Yours?”

“Oh you know.” Lily waves a hand. “My sister got married.”

Remus nods. “Yeah, James mentioned-“

Speaking of the devil himself, a messy dark-haired boy with glasses and a cocky expression saddles up behind Lily, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Hiya, Moony.”

“Prongs.” Remus nods. They stare at each other for a moment before James breaks into a grin and drops his arms from around Lily. He rushes at Remus and they embrace each other for a moment before Lily breaks into a fit of giggles.

“What’s this?” James pulls back from their hug, squeezes Remus’ biceps. “Is that _muscle_?”

Before Remus can confirm or deny, James’ gaze shifts over Remus’ shoulder and brightens. “Oi! Padfoot! Leave Morrison alone and get your bum over here!”

He only has a peaceful second before he’s attacked by another hug.

Sirius Black pulls away and grins. “Moony? Have you been lifting weights?”

Remus smirks, and then punches him in the shoulder. Sirius clutches his arm and feigns hurt. “Wow, is that any way to greet your best mate?”

“Of course not, he greeted me with a reciprocated hug.” James slings his arm around Sirius’ shoulders. The sight of his two best friends with their arms around each other is all Remus needs. Well, minus one person. He grins, drops his bag on the ground and wraps Sirius into a headlock.

“Where’s Pete?”

“Ah! Moony!” Sirius shouts, arms flailing. “Seriously, when the hell did you get so strong?”

“I don’t know? Maybe you’re just becoming more of a twat, eh?”

“Unlikely,” Sirius pants out, attempting to fight off Remus. “ _Very_ unlikely.”

“Wormtail is saying goodbye to his mum, you know how clingy she can be.”

James is howling with laughter as Lily gives them a little wave and disappears off towards the train. It takes them only a few moments to gather themselves, and they’re soon joined by the fourth member of their crew: Peter Pettigrew.

Remus and Peter hug. “Damn, Moony. You’re _built_.”

Together, they go off to find their seats and end up kicking some first years out of their usual compartment. Sirius bares his teeth at them as James pretends to file his nails. Remus hovers in the background, expressionless, as two eleven-year-old boys run off, obviously terrified. It barely fazes him anymore.

They settle into the compartment, and soon enough James is flashing his shiny new Head Boy badge.

“I still have no idea how you got that,” Sirius says, kicking his feet up in the empty space between Remus and James. “You’re the last bloody person they should give it to. And that’s after _me_ and Rodulphus Lestrange.”

“I dunno why you didn’t get it, Moony,” Peter observes. He’s got a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavoured Beans sitting in his lap.

“I don’t know either. Dumbledore must be on fucking acid, man.” James grins before muttering, “I want whatever he’s having.”

“But you’re still a prefect, right Moony?” Sirius chimes in, pinching Remus on the cheek. “So you’re almost there, dude.”

“Piss off.” Remus swats Sirius away, reclining into his seat. “I wouldn’t want to be Head Boy anyway,” Remus admits. “Being in charge of all those first years sounds like a bloody nightmare.”

“I don’t think it’d be that bad,” Peter says. “If you’re good with kids, and stuff.”

“Well, if we know anything it’s that Remus is shit with kids,” Sirius cackles, and flips his long, dark hair away from his eyes like an old habit.

Remus smirks, holding his arms in front of him in mock surrender. “I love kids.”

“And kids just love you too, Moony,” James ruffles the top his head. “I hear the ladies do as well.”

Sirius snorts as Peter looks up interestedly.

“Oh do they now?” Remus asks, pulling an old, tattered book from his bag before dropping it onto the floor by his feet. “And which ladies are we speaking of?”

“All of them,” James continues, grinning, “or so Lily tells me.” 

“Who?” Peter pushes, grinning. 

“MacDonald.”

“Obviously.”

“Are you high?”

“Not yet,” Sirius reaches into his bag and pulls out a sloppily rolled joint. Remus isn’t even slightly surprised.

“Who’d you get that from?” he asks anyway, running a hand through his hair. It’s gotten long in the summer.  His mum kept telling him to cut it, which is precisely why he hadn’t.

“Maddox, as usual.” Sirius shrugs. “He tried to charge me a leg for it, that git.”

“Well, I heard the High Roller has been raising prices.” James crosses his arms over his chest. “Heard he’s getting greedy.”

“The High Roller can tug me off,” Sirius grunts.

“That’s gay,” Peter says.

“That’s homophobic,” Sirius replies, poking Peter in the stomach before placing the unlit joint between his lips.

“And sexist,” Remus adds, “the High Roller could be a woman.”

Peter flips them off. “Whatever, mate.”

“Lads,” Sirius declares, tossing an arm around Peter’s shoulders and grinning. One could say Sirius Black was a bit of an arsehole, but he was always there for his mates. “I think it’s time we smoke up to a new year.”

“Final year,” James amends, looking out the window. His solemnity doesn’t last long, however, and he turns quickly to the group and says, “Lily will finally sleep with me this year. I can feel it.”

“You’re not feeling anything, yet,” Sirius mutters, raising his wand and lighting the joint. He takes a long drag and blows the smoke out in front of him. He sighs dreamily and leans his head back against the seat. “Shit, man.”

“Good stuff?” James asks.

“The High Roller only provides the best shit.” Sirius puts on a mock accent that sounds unmistakably close to Ricky Maddox. He holds the joint out to them.

“Nah.” James shakes his head. “Can’t today. I’ve got to lead a prefects meeting soon. Lily would know.”

Sirius then holds the joint out to Remus, staring at him hopefully.

Remus shakes his head. “Nah. I’ve also got said meeting.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “You lot are no fun.” Peter grabs at the joint excitedly. “Good on you Wormtail.” Sirius grins, slapping him on the back. “At least someone wants to make this year memorable.”

-.-

“So, Madam High Roller,” Archibald Blackwater III leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and grinning wolfishly, “have you got what we talked about?”

Elsea stares at his posh jumper; he’s got an ascot tied around his neck. Bloody tosser.

“Is that how you greet me, Archie? Really?” Elsea says, frowning sarcastically. “After all these months apart?”              

“Fine.” He opens his arms and kisses her sloppily on the cheek. “Hey, babe! I missed you so much! Do you have any bud?”

“You’re vile.” Elsea pulls away quickly, wiping the slobber from her cheek. Archie’s invasive embraces almost make her miss her brother. But as much as she loves to act like Archie is the scum of the Earth, he’s her scum of the Earth. Elsea doesn’t know how she’d survive without him, really. Of course, she’d never say that out loud. “And yes, I do. Only if you have twenty-five galleons.”

It’s an outrageous price, but she likes to ruffle feathers from time to time. Especially Archie’s. Sometimes he gets too chummy. She’s known him for ages, since the sorting ceremony their first year. Then, Elsea was just a muggle born girl with wide eyes and a million questions, all of which Archibald Blackwater III, a pureblood, could easily answer. It didn’t take long for her to realize he was a raging prat. Though said quality mixed well with her own personality. And that convenience somehow, in a strange twist of events, actually turned into real friendship somewhere along the way.

“Twenty-five galleons? Are you mad woman?” Archie says, offended. “With rates like that people are just gonna start snorting ink.”

“Shame. That would be real god damn stupid.” Elsea falls back onto the seat in their compartment. It’s just the two of them for now, she isn’t sure where their other compadres are, though, she’s not surprised their other closest friend is late.

Archie sniffles and wipes his nose. “You think you’d get high from that?”

Elsea gapes at him, contemplating how she managed to befriend such an idiot. “No, dumbass, you would probably get lead poisoning and die. Are you gonna pay me or not?”

There have been several times that, despite his deep pockets from his wealthy mother (she has her own women’s health magazine) and his equally wealthy father (he’s got old money), Archie has conveniently “forgotten” to pay. Elsea doesn’t allow that anymore.

“Fine.” Archie reaches into his pockets, pulling out a bright pink wallet. “Don’t laugh, by the way. It changes color with my mood.”

Elsea laughs anyway. “That’s a complete gimmick and you’re fool.”

“Is it? Because pink means irritated, according to the key.”

“I don’t see why you’re so peeved,” she says. “I’m kidding. Now give me my three galleons, _please_.” She sings the last bit and wiggles her fingers out at him. Reluctantly, he nods, fishing the coins from his wallet. Elsea accepts his money graciously. “You know Mummy Dearest would reimburse you anyway.”

“Yeah, okay. Like I’d write to Mum and say _I just spent twenty-five galleons on loads of cannabis for recreational purposes, mind sparing a bit_?” Archie sighs, shoving his wallet back into his pocket as it took on an ugly shade of green. “You know, three galleons is still kinda pricey. Isn’t there a friend rate? I feel like I should get some kind of discount.”

“You did get a discount,” Elsea points out, “I told you that I’m bumping up my prices a bit. Besides, when have I ever made you pay before?”

“You’re a sneaky one, Bitch Face,” Archie mumbles. There’s slight pride in his voice. “Wait, how much is it for like, the regular people?”

Elsea shrugs, looking at her nails. “Four. Four and a half.”

“Els,” Archie looks at her, a bit too serious for her liking, “you’re a genius.”

Elsea heaves a sigh of relief. As much as Archie is a bumbling idiot, his opinions do matter. He’s a good representative of the wealthy, arsehole section of the student body. Then again, Archibald Blackwater is a good representative of every wanker in Hogwarts. Despite his shocking good looks and sorting into Ravenclaw, he’s a bit of a twat.

And Elsea’s whole operation would never work without Archie’s monetary contributions and his unhindered loyalty. She knew that, when it came down it, he’d have her back. Besides, it helped to have someone as loud mouthed as Archie on her side; most people just assumed the High Roller was him, or one of his other friends. No one suspected pretty little Bitch Face Elsea Holmes of running the only successful drug ring inside Hogwarts.

That’s just how she likes it, of course. Not to mention that in the last few years the market has grown considerably. With a terrible war raging across Britain, people need a little something to get them through the day now more than ever.

Before she can hand Archie his gram, there are three knocks on the compartment door.

“Come in!” Archie calls and then warns, “Don’t tell them about my wallet.”

Four familiar faces file into their compartment, towering over them with excitement.

“So?” asks Maddox. His real name is Ricky, but hardly anyone calls him that. “What’s the lot looking like this year?”

Maddox is also one of Elsea’s favorites, but only because he cuts right to the chase. Who needs formalities when they’re just going to be selling weed for her? Not to mention, nearly everyone underestimates a scrawny, kind-faced boy like Ricky Maddox. He’s always sending the curious students in the wrong direction when they’re on her trail.

“Well, first off, I raised the prices a bit. So instead of two galleons, it’s four.”

Maddox nods calmly and folds his arms over his chest. He’s filled out a bit over the summer, but that’s not saying much. He sometimes jokes that he’s the darkest person in all of Ireland, and having spent the summer holidays in Italy, he’s even more tanned than usual.

Xavier Kensington, looking perplexed, shakes his head. “Are you kidding? Don’t you think that’s a bit too expensive? For weed?”

Elsea hardly likes Xavier. Maybe it’s the fact that he has bleached blonde hair and listens to the Sex Pistols. Or maybe it’s just because he’s a mouthy arse. Either way, she’s got no other choice. Archie swore they were the best team a few years ago, and now here they are, indebted to one another. Elsea doesn’t mind much as long as she keeps the upper hand.

“Enchanted weed,” Elsea corrects, “and of _course_ not, don’t be ridiculous.”

Archie nods his head in agreement. “There’s a war going on. Do you think people are gonna care? This shit,” he pulls the baggie he’s just bought off Elsea out of his pocket, “is _priceless._ ”

“I’d care,” Reid Webber, Elsea’s least favorite of her cronies mutters. She resists the urge to hex him already. She’s not very good at attempting to manipulate him. He’s relatively smart and rather large. He’s got tree trunks for thighs and massive biceps from all his years on the Ravenclaw Quidditch squad.

“Then you can piss off, Webb,” Elsea warns carefully. “Give me feedback. If people don’t buy for three then tell me, and I’ll see what I can do. Odds are people aren’t willing to give up their—“

“Wizard weed,” Archie interjects.

“Yeah, whatever,” Elsea finishes, “not in a time like this, at least.”

Maddox nods in agreement. The other three, Webb, Xavier, and Hadley, stare idly. “It’s the best shit I’ve ever had,” Maddox says.

Webb shrugs. Xavier nods.

“How about we get down to business then?” Annabeth Hadley grunts. Her brown hair is pulled back in a severely tight ponytail.

“Maddox,” Elsea gives Hadley a glare. She goes in order of who she likes best; it’s the least secretive part of her job. The most secretive being the spreadsheets she’s just stuffed into her knapsack. Only Archie’s seen them, and he teased her mercilessly about her intense “weed” organization. She’s careful not to show anyone. “Gryffindors, again. They’re probably going to be the hardest to sway for the new price, being all brave and annoying and what not. Go for Sirius Black, too. I hear he’s kind of an idiot. He’s got a lot of money to throw around, too.”

Webb and Hadley laugh. She leaves out the “fit” part. Sirius Black is an idiot, sure, but he’s fit as hell, too.

“Hadley, you deal with the Slytherins since you’re the only one I know who can _deal_ with them.” The deal being the fact that Annabeth Hadley is a pureblood who snogs other purebloods on the regular. Despite Elsea’s distaste for the girl, she is very useful.

“Els,” Archie says suddenly. Elsea almost snaps at him for interrupting her while she’s working, but the look of panic on his face stops her. “Anya is coming.”

Elsea feels herself physically tighten. She’s not a paranoid person regularly; she actually prides herself on being pretty damn chilled out. But when Anya Darzi gets anywhere near her business, she becomes what Stan would call, “ _high strung as shit_.”

“Okay, okay,” Elsea says, panting slightly. “Xavier gets the Puffs, Webb, obviously you get the Ravenclaws as always.”

“But I hate the Puffs,” Xavier complains, “they always act like cocks when they’re high. Won’t bloody leave me alone. Jason is the bane of my very existence.”

“Hey, I personally _love_ Jason,” Archie interjects.

Xavier mentions something vaguely homophobic under this breath.

“Your problem, mate,” Elsea replies exasperatedly to him. “We don’t have time for arguments.”

“I’ll switch,” Webb offers. “I can take the Puffs; they’re scared of me.”

“Yeah, on account of the fact that you punched their Quidditch captain in the face,” Archie sniggers.

“Okay! Great!” Elsea cries, rushing. “Do that. Even though I’m technically the mastermind here but _whatever_.”

“It’s just a small switch, _Elsea,_ ,” Hadley mutters. She hates when they get mouthy on her, especially because none of them have the gulls to actually do it with some pride.

“Fine, whatever, switch as you please!”

They all nod; Elsea practically throws each of their cuts at them. “Meet me in the common room later so we can discuss profit,” she says, sighing as they all place their baggies in their pockets. “Now fuck off.”

Hadley opens the door, ready to lead everyone out when an important thought enters Elsea’s head.

“One last thing!” Elsea adds breathlessly. They all pause. “Archie bought the fruitiest wallet I’ve ever seen in my entire life. We’ll make fun of him later, but it changes color with his _mood_.”

“Hey!” Archie shouts, but it’s too late. Everyone is already laughing.

“Merlin, bless you, Archie,” Maddox says in his gruff, Irish accent. “Merlin, bless you.”

They all leave shortly after. Elsea giggles, pulling Archie’s hands away from his face. “Oh come on, you thought that wallet was all the rage like, five minutes ago.”

“But you talked me out of it,” Archie groans. “Besides, Maddox will never let me live that one down.”

“Nor will I.” Elsea pats him on the shoulder. “What color is it now?”

“It’s a nice shade of _fuck right off_.”

“Nice, my favourite color.”

“I’m here!”

Anya Darzi is standing in the doorway, arms up theatrically with a giant grin plastered on her face. Elsea hesitates for a moment before running up to hug her, nearly knocking her over with force.  

Anya gasps for air and pushes her off giggling. “I guess you missed me?” she says, her voice cheery.

“Of course, I missed you.” Elsea sighs, pulling her into the seat next to her. “You’re the only sane person I know. Isn’t that right Archie?”

Archie frowns. “Yes, besides me. Right.”

“Hi Archie,” Anya says, waving. Anya has her dark brown hair twisted up in a pretty braid. Her cheeks are flushed pink and she’s wearing a rather intense, flowing blouse.

Archie, who is always a bit slow, gets up awkwardly and gives her a short, one-armed hug. “Hey, Anya. How was your summer?”

“It was good!” Anya smiles. “I spent it in Iceland for the most part. I deep-sea dived for the first time.”

"In Iceland?" Elsea asks, narrowing her eyes skeptically.

Archie’s eyes widen and he tugs Anya onto the seat next to him. “I’ve never done that! Did you get bitten by a shark?”

“Clearly, Arch,” Elsea mumbles, but they ignore her.

“No!” Anya giggles. “Yeah, it’s a muggle thing, really. I wouldn’t expect you to have done it.”

Archie opens his mouth to speak, but Anya cuts him off. “Not that wizards don’t deep-sea dive. Or that they can’t. Or, um, anything like that.”

Elsea looks at her friend, feeling uncomfortable for her as Archie nods his head with a blank expression his face. While the two of them are friends, they’re not always on the same level. In fact, most of their interactions are even more awkward than this. Though, that has a lot to do with the fact that Anya fancies Archie, and Archie is terrified of letting slip about Elsea being the almighty High Roller.

“Yeah,” Archie says slowly. “I bet.”

She wishes they were both better at dealing with themselves. Well, Anya is alright. Anya is smart, a little bit single-issue focused at times, but still a good person. There is no reason for her to waste her energy on someone like _Archie_. He’s a hopeless narcissist and a complete twat. And he might make a great friend, but he’s nowhere near worthy of Anya Darzi.

“Alright, I’m gonna get high,” Archie says.

 _Thank Merlin_ , she thinks.

“It’s on me,” Elsea declares, pulling out the baggie Stan had blessed her with outside the platform. Nothing breaks the tension like a good smoke out. “You guys in? It’s not any of that special stuff, but, it’ll do.”

“I am,” Archie says. “God, yes.” Nothing gets Archie like a free smoke either.

Anya shakes her head. “Haven’t smoked since the train in June. I ate everything in our house when I got home. Mum thought I’d gone mad! I’m on a cleanse. Besides, I think that stuff rots your brain.”

“Suit yourself,” Elsea says.

-.-

“Hey, hey, _Moony_.” Remus can feel Sirius towering over him, cackling with Peter as he pokes him continuously. “Remus, wakey wakey.”

“ _What_?” Remus groans, rolling over in his seat. Last night had been a particularly rough one and after catching up with his mates for a debriefing of the summer, he was more than ready to hit the hay. Though, that seems to have been rather short-lived, especially without a sober James to put them in their place. He left soon after Sirius lit up to go snog (and probably bother) Lily.

Unfortunately for him, though, Sirius and Peter decided they’d rather get stoned off their arses and prod at him rather than support his need for a quick snooze.

“Remus, get up,” Peter coos, giggling. “We want to see your shining face.”

“Sod off.”

“Remus, Remi, Remoo,” Sirius insists, poking him in the head with his wand. “Did you know your name sounds shockingly close to the word anus? Remus anus? Remus the anus?”

Remus opens his eyes just enough to get a glance of Peter nearly wetting himself on the floor.

“Remus in your anus?”

Peter is screaming.

“Remus puts some painus in your anus.”

Remus knows he’s not getting any sleep now. He also knows he’s not going to get anywhere in this conversation. A stoned Sirius Black is the most stubborn piece of shit on the planet. “Hey,” Remus says, voice hoarse from sleep. “Sirius Black is the most pretentious name I’ve ever heard of in my life.”

Both Sirius and Peter burst into a fit of giggles. Remus resists the urge to roll his eyes and a tiny, minuscule grin creeps onto his face.

“This is,” Sirius manages to say between cackles, “the richest thing I’ve ever heard from you Moonus Anus,” Remus actually rolls his eyes this time, “coming from a bloke whose surname suggests—“

Remus doesn’t give him the time to finish his sentence. He stands up, pokes his wand into Sirius’ chest, and grabs his prefect badge from his bag.

Sirius and Peter are still giggling. “I get it!” Peter cries. “Because it’s like, his furry little problem!”

It takes him a total of two seconds to escape the crazed, stoned madness of his best mates and into the smoke-free, decently smelling hallway of the train. He closes the door behind him, and their laughter is lost behind the door.

Remus almost chokes on the air, it’s so clean. He almost forgot that he was on the Hogwarts Express rather than the tightest space in the Shrieking Shack, the favourite smoking spot of his impossible mates.

Walking down the narrow hall, Remus can spot Madame Talissa pushing the cart way ahead of him. He almost can’t believe he missed her on the rounds. Since his first year, he’d been almost compulsively trying everything on the cart. Even the Every Flavour Beans.

He’s still not sure if being able to have tried the rare “Troll Sweat” flavour is an accomplishment or not. But none the less, he had to at least get a chocolate frog before going to the prefects meeting.

Remus picks up his pace, jogging towards the candy cart before it entered the next train, where past that point he’d be amongst the Slytherins. Which, honestly, could be the worst thing in the world. And there’s a war going on out there, after all.

There just really isn’t a person that Remus dreads to see more than Severus Snape. He’s nasty, possibly racist, nosey, and just rude in general. On top of that, all of his friends (especially James) had teased him into the ground two years ago by dangling him out on the grounds like a piñata. Then there was the whole fact that Snape knew of his _furry little problem._ And no matter how shitty a person Snape is, looking at him after that still made him feel guilty.

“Hey, watch it!” A girl, who Remus must have missed while on his mad dash to the candy cart, bumps directly into his chest, falling against the wall.

“Oh,” Remus says apologetically, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.”

He walks towards her, trying to get a glance at her face. As strange as it sounds, the back of her head looks a bit familiar.

“It’s whatever,” she says, turning to face him. Her eyes are bloodshot, watery and squinted. “Not your fault, I just, didn’t measure the trajectory, right. Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

He’s not exactly sure what she’s saying. What is he sure of, however, is that she’s bloody _fit_. He knows her; she’s a fellow prefect, Ravenclaw, and they’d gone on rounds together in their fifth year. He spent the entire time trying not to think about her legs, which are long and thin, and her tits, which threatened him around every corner of those dark corridors.

“Are you alright?” Remus asks. “You look… distraught.”

She stares at him for a while, blankly. Remus is worried she didn’t hear him correctly, or maybe that he’s offended her in some way. But then he sees the little dropper bottle in her hand and everything makes sense.

“I’m fine,” she says suddenly. “I just have allergies. Spring, right?”

“It’s autumn.”

Remus can’t help but stare at her face. She really is pretty. Her lips are pink and pursed, and despite the fact that she’s bloody stoned out of her mind, she has a certain air about her that’s really really attractive.

“Same concept. Both are transitions that honestly kill the immune system.”

She’s wrong, it has nothing to do with the immune system, but he nods anyway.

“Right.”

The train lurches to the left and she stumbles, gripping onto his arms for support. Remus grabs her wrist to help her out and notices that her nails are painted a deep red. “Shit!” she giggles. “Lost my footing!”

He doesn’t bother to correct her. She steadies herself and smiles.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” she asks, walking down the hall from the same direction. “You look so familiar. Are you a celebrity?”

“No.” Remus laughs. “But I think we’ve been in a few lectures together, probably.”

It’s not even a _probably_. They’ve had Potions together since their first year. A couple Herbology lectures as well, too. He knows she’s absolutely brilliant at it; he’s seen her with the Herbology professor after classes before. Come to think of it, he’s had loads of courses with her in the past.

Her eyes widen with recognition. “Right! Potions and charms, right?”

“Uh, no. Potions and Muggle Studies.”

“Muggle Studies! I knew that sorry. I don’t know anyone’s name. It’s not like that.”

Remus nods. “Didn’t think it was.”

He wonders if it’s just because she’s high or if she’s actually a total dumbass. They let Blackwater in Ravenclaw, so it mustn't have too high of standards.

“What’s your name? Sorry? I won’t mess it up anymore after this.”

“Remus Lupin.”

The girl’s eyes widen in recognition again. “Oh, fuck. I _know_ you. I’m such an asshole, wow. Sorry, Remus.” She brushes her hair behind her ear and Remus notices a pair of sparkling, diamond earrings. So she’s got a bit of money, then?

It’s a bad habit, but he’s always noticing whether people have nice things. He supposes it’s because, growing up, his family never had much money. Especially after his, well, furry little problem started, funds started running dry.

“It’s really fine,” Remus says earnestly. “I don’t know your name either if I’m being honest.”

Total lie. He knows her name. Well, her surname at least. Sirius has mentioned finding her fit on more than one occasion.

She frowns, shaking her head as they approach the cart. “Really? I can’t believe this. I’m really ston—I mean, I have _allergies_. What’s your excuse?”

Remus shrugs. “I don’t know anyone’s name,” he mocks, “it’s not _like_ that.”

“Hmm,” the girl says, raising her brows. She clearly has no idea what’s happening. “Nice. I’m Elsea. Elsea Holmes. I’m a Ravenclaw prefect.”

“Nice.” Remus pulls a few knuts from his pockets. “Very cool. Two chocolate frogs, please?”

He can feel her watching him as pays. If he was Sirius or James, he’d have teased her about it. “Like what you see?” or “Take a picture, love, it’ll last longer. And you can stare at it lovingly before bed.” But he’s not Sirius or James. So he takes his Chocolate Frogs and steps out of the way.

Elsea steps forwards. “Hi, can I have a candy in a can, two treacle tarts, a pumpkin pasty- no wait, two, of those. Yeah, two pumpkin pasties and a chocolate cauldron, chocolate wand, chocolate skeleton, choco-loco, do you have licorice snaps? Wait, forget I asked that. Of course, you have licorice snaps. Five of those.”

Madame Talissa stares at her, shocked. “Well then, _anything_ else?”

“You got sugar mice?”       

Remus watches as the candy lady opens up the bottom of her cart, face contorted in confusion and retrieves each and every item Elsea requested. He stifles a grin as Elsea eagerly watches the food, running her tongue along her lips and graciously holding all the items in her arms. He can barely believe how stoned she is; hell, he’s only seen James this gone _one time_ , and that was after he lost his first Quidditch match in five years.

“You a bit hungry there?” Remus asks, attempting to hide a smirk.

“Positively _starved_ ,” Elsea gushes, turning to look at him, “I mean. It’s not all for me.”

Remus nods his head slowly. “I didn’t think it was.”

“You want some? For the prefect meeting?” Elsea asks, but Remus can tell she’s only being polite. “I’m not a stalker by the way. I just saw you had the badge.”

“It’s not like we’ve ever been on patrol together before.” He knocks his shoulder against hers playfully before he can even think it through. Bloody hell, is he flirting with her? Just because she’s got a pretty face? She’s a prefect, a _stoned_ prefect. How the hell did she get the job, anyway?

“Oh!” Elsea tries to snap her fingers, but all the candy in her arms prevents her from doing it. “Oh shit!”

He watches as the entirety of the candy in her arms starts to topple forward and onto the sticky floors of the Hogwarts Express.

“No!” Elsea cries. “My pumpkin pasties!”

It’s an instant reflex that he whips out his wand and freezes it mid-air. Elsea gasps, clapping her hands over her mouth. “Fuck! That was _brilliant._ That was, that was…”

“Magic?” Remus offers, bending down next to her and smirking. Their faces are awfully close now, and he can see she’s got a tiny scar on the side of her cheek, just below her temple.

“Yes!” Elsea looks genuinely in awe. “Magic. I don’t think I’ve taken out my wand since I got here. Allergies.”

“Yeah,” Remus says.

“I’m just a little scatterbrained,” she continues.

“That,” he replies, “and you’re stoned.”

Elsea starts picking up her individual items and then freezes. “Wait? What? No. Don’t be ridiculous, Romulus. I’m a prefect.”

“Remus.”

“I’ve got _allergies_.”

“That explains the-” Remus picks up a few of the pumpkin pasties and hands them to her, “-odor.”

“Wow, are you telling me I stink?” Elsea accuses. “That is no way to speak to a woman.”

“And how might I speak to a woman?”

“Well.” Elsea stands up straight and places a licorice wand between her teeth. “First of all, you never say the word ‘odor.’ It’s ugly and offensive. Second, you do not assign the word odor to a woman. Understand?”

“Perfectly.”

“Good.”

“Anything else?” They’ve stopped outside the prefect’s compartment.

“No,” Elsea says, sighing. “I think we’re good. But... _oh_ ! If you ever wanna like,” she lowers her voice and leans closer, “get like me, _you know_ , you should talk to Ricky Maddox. He’s got the hook up to the High Roller.”

“Oh really?” Remus asks. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, he, or she, no one knows, right? _They_ have the best bud in Hogwarts. Only bud, actually.”

“I’ve heard.” The way she’s speaking reminds him of Sirius. “But I _also_ heard that the prices are way high right now. So it’s probably not worth it.”

He shrugs it off casually, but for some reason Elsea breaks into a fit of hysterical laughter. He forces a smile, but awkwardly stuffs his hands into his pockets.

Luckily for him, however, it’s the ceremonial entrance of one James Potter that breaks the awkward tension. “There you are, Moony!” James cries, throwing his arm around Remus’ shoulders. “We’ve been waiting on you. Have you ever been late to a meeting before? Have you just popped your cherry?”

Remus’ face flushes a particular shade of pink as Elsea continues to giggle in spite of herself. He wants to say that his cherry has already been popped, thank you very much, but instead he punches James in the gut and he and Elsea swiftly move into the prefect’s compartment.

“I’ve snogged her,” James mumbles in his ear. “Fifth year.”

“Have you?” Remus asks, looking from James to Elsea, who nearly drops all her sweets as she settles into her seat next to the other Ravenclaw prefect, Ben Atlas. He looks just as frightened of her as everyone else. “Any good?”

“Brilliant, actually.”


	2. You're My Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What do you mean ‘what?’” Sirius asks. “It burns off fibers.”

_Three wizards found dead in Knockturn Alley. Is it the work of You-Know-Who? Or a muggle gas leak?_

“Well, that’s a stupid question,” Anya says, peering over Elsea’s shoulder. She grabs the Daily Prophet right out of her hands. “As if a _gas leak_ could off twenty-five wizards.”

“Yes, I know,” Elsea snaps, irritated. She loves Anya to bits, but in the early hours of the morning, nothing gets between her and her Daily Prophet. “The reporter is being sarcastic.”

Anya rolls her eyes, setting down the paper and throwing her hands up in defeat. “Oh, well _my bad_ then. I must have missed what was so funny about the mass murder of our fellow wizards.”

That _is_ true. Elsea can quite definitely agree with her on that point, it’s really not all that funny. But coffee and paper first, socializing second. She aggressively turns to page six where the ‘full story’ could be found. There isn’t much to read being that the story is still developing, but it doesn’t matter. Elsea’s eyes are glued to the giant picture anyway.

There’s a pair of white Keds, new as day, just peeking out from the corner of the photo. They’re connected to a pair of ashy white ankles, unscuffed, just like the shoes. Elsea can’t see much beyond that one shot, but with all the other movement in the picture, it’s obvious that whoever was wearing those shoes had to be dead. In the picture. Then and now.

A chill runs up her spine as she stares at it; she knows lots of people who wear white Keds, she used to wear them herself before she traded her pair in for some converse and beautiful brown boots. Those shoes could belong anyone in the world. Her mum owns white Keds, she thinks.

Those white Keds haunt her as she trails her fingers along the page. She thinks about the family. They’d have gotten the news by now, she’s sure, that their loved one is dead. Elsea does this often. She may not know the deceased, their name or their life or anything, really, but she knows the familiarity of death. It’s all too real now, seeping into the corners of the Great Hall, lurking in the shadows in the corridors. Sometimes Elsea can feel it slithering underneath her bed at night.

It suddenly disgusts her. She turns the page to read the Wiz Comics instead.

“You heard about the Havermeyers, right?” Archie, Merlin knows when he appeared, says grimly in front of a plate of French toast. Elsea stares at him blankly from over the paper while Anya takes a noisy bite of her apple.

“What happened?” Elsea asks, relieved for the distraction from that horrible headline and those horrible shoes.

Archie gets in close, his fingers floating over Anya’s plate, and grabs a strip of bacon. “Well,” he tells them, whispering, “apparently, the Dad is like, a huge Death Eater freak.”

Anya cringes. “Archie, _don’t_ ,” she warns, but then realizes her mistake, and blushes a shade of dark crimson.

“You don’t say?” Elsea muses, staring over at the Slytherin table. Sure enough, Blake and Tate Havermeyer aren’t there. “How do you know?”

“Because I know everything.” Archie chomps down Anya’s bacon as she stares at him in shock.

“Is that mine, Archie?”

“Maybe.” He’s actually _smirking_ at her.

Anya’s mouth tightens. “You could’ve just asked me for it. I’m dieting anyway.”

“Are you?”

“ _Archie_ ,” Elsea repeats. “How do you know?”

Archie sighs, looks at Anya hopefully and takes another slice of bacon. “Hadley told me. Remember you put her on the Slytherins? Well, she usually talks to Blake Havermeyer, but he wasn’t there at all. Then Atlas said that both of the brothers didn’t come back to join the troops.”

“But isn’t Tate only a second year?” Anya asks, pushing her entire plate away. She’d woken up that morning with several pledges: to eat healthier and be a positive force in the halls of Hogwarts, to name a few. Also to save the whales, but that would have to wait until they were near a body of water that could sustain more than enchanted fish and mere rumors of merpeople.

Archie nods. “Yeah, but like that matters to, you know, _them_.”

“That’s terrible.”

“I know. Blake was great at Quidditch, but less competition for me now, right?”

“Where the hell are you even going with this?” Elsea interrupts sharply. Anya and Archie both stare at her, confused. “I mean, just because they’re Slytherins and they didn’t come back to Hogwarts this year does not mean they’re suddenly Death Eaters now. That’s a massive condemnation. Are you an idiot? Or just bloody stupid?”

“Neither,” Archie bites, insulted. “It’s not like this is anything new. The Havermeyers have been complete mugglephobes since _ever_. Remember? Tate even called that Hufflepuff a mudblo-”

Archie stops himself and stares at Elsea nervously.

“It’s okay, chill out.” Elsea shrugs, letting the word slide off her back like it’s nothing. Though, it definitely is more than nothing. “And I know. But still, I just need a bit more evidence to believe something like that.”

Archie frowns. “What more do you need? You want little Tate Havermeyer to come in here and show you his cool new ink?”

Anya stifles a giggle. Elsea almost  _almost_ kicks her under the table.

“I believe you, Archie,” Anya coos. “I always got a bad vibe from Havermeyer in potions. He and Snape always seemed up to no good.”

Archie grins fondly at Anya. “See, Elsea?” he jeers, pulling another slice of bacon off Anya’s nearly empty plate. “You should be more like Anya.”

Elsea decides to tune them out. If there is anything that could further wreck this morning, it’s Anya feeding Archie’s astronomically-sized ego. There are better things to engage herself with, she decides.

And she’s proven correct by the entrance of Remus Lupin.

He saunters in; sandy brown hair tussled in a minimum of six different directions. His shirt is buttoned incorrectly, and there are deep, purplish dark circles under his eyes. The boy looks like he quite literally hasn’t slept in a week and Elsea can’t stop _staring_. She hasn’t been able to stop since the incident on the train one week ago.

She can’t put her finger on what it exactly is so attractive about Remus Lupin. It’s certainly not how put together he is or his smile (he really doesn’t do that too often), but it’s just _something_.

Elsea thinks maybe, she can’t be sure, that it’s the way he carries himself. He’s side by side with Hogwarts’ most eligible bachelor and Mr. Perfect on the regular. But still. He’s quite the specimen, Elsea decides, and he’s well worth her attention for the morning.

She idly bites into a corner of toast and watches as he takes long strides across the Great Hall to the head of the Gryffindor table where Black, Potter, and Pettigrew are already sitting. Potter’s hair is even more terrifying than Remus’, and he’s saying something excitedly to a very eager Pettigrew. Black looks exhausted, but cool, with his shaggy black hair pushed away from his face and his tie loosened around his neck. For a Monday morning, no one looks too alert in the Great Hall. Save for Anya and Archie, who continue to chatter next to her.

They should really just get it over with and snog already.

Black pats Remus on the shoulder and he settles onto the bench next to him. He runs a hand through his already tousled hair as Potter starts piling on a variety of dishes onto his plate. Elsea watches, interested at the way his three friends dote on him momentarily, knowing exactly what he wants to eat. They move in tandem with one another. Well, if she knew someone like Remus Lupin that personally she’d want to move in tandem with him too.

“Merlin, Holmes.” Archie’s voice cuts her away from her swooning. “At least buy the man dinner before you shamelessly eye fuck him.”

Elsea attempts to stop the blush from creeping up her neck with a haughty glare. “Don’t be ridiculous, _Archibald_.”

Archie just smirks. “You’re practically salivating all over that toast. Black? Really?”

It’s then that Elsea realizes Archie thinks she’s staring at _Sirius Black_ . She nearly scoffs at the thought. Sure, he’s good-looking, criminally so, but he’s such a...well, for a lack of a better word: _twat_.

His sense of humor is tragic and always at the expense of someone else, and not to mention he’d snog anything that moved. He’s a loose cannon, mouthing off at professors and Slytherins and against the war. Elsea would never subject herself to someone so erratic. Her entire being operated under strict order and organization. Sirius Black would fit none of that.

Remus Lupin, on the other hand…

“Sirius Black isn’t worth my time,” Elsea snaps, a little too loudly, that a few surrounding Ravenclaws turn their head to look. She lowers her voice. “Leave it, Archie.” She says his name with such ferocity that he merely snaps his mouth shut and nods decisively.

They’re saved by the arrival of two other Ravenclaw girls from their year, Joan Abernathy and Gemma Morrison, and Maddox.

“Morning, you lot,” Maddox says. The table feels awkward. Gemma adjusts her wide-rimmed glasses and looks around the table.

“What’s the deal?” she asks.

“Well,” Archie clears his throat, placing his hands on the table, “that’s my cue. I ought to head out if I want to make it to Care of Magical Creatures on time.”

“I dunno why you still take that class,” Anya muses, watching him as he stands up from the bench and adjusts his robes, “it’s so _dirty_.”

“Maddox and I were going to hotbox in the broom closet,” Archie explains, wiggling his eyebrows at her. “Right man? Kettleburn gives us an extra ten minutes to get down to the forest. An extra ten minutes seriously unneeded.”

The corners of Elsea’s lips twitch slightly. She mentally thanks him for keeping her in business all these years. Archie is her best customer, behind those Hufflepuff seventh years who are literally stoned during all hours of the day.

Maddox kisses Joan, his sometime girlfriend, on the cheek and she blushes. “Right-o, mate.”

“Find you later, yeah?” Archie asks. His eyes shift to Elsea and he says. “Got some coursework I need you to look over.”

Elsea nods quickly. A little too quickly. Anya shoots a strange look between them, but she forgets it the moment Sirius Black stands up on his bench and screams some indistinguishable rubbish. Pettigrew roars with laughter while Potter shouts something back at him. Remus smirks down at his plate.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Find me later. Library?”

Archie nods and is gone. Elsea wonders what he needs to speak to her about, though she reckons it’s serious if he has to let her know beforehand. She’s certainly not going to let him forget now like he’s prone to do.

Once they’re alone, Anya’s hands slip around Elsea’s forearm and yanks her back to reality once again.

“Okay,” Anya says, a smile twisting on her thin lips. “ _Spill._ ”

“Spill what?” Elsea asks, leaning closer. She doesn’t rip her arm out of Anya’s grip, she’s afraid that might look a little too...suspicious. Plus, Anya is a _total_ gossip. That means she’s got information, Remus Lupin information. And Elsea is more than willing to play nice if it means she going to find out something _good_.

“You were staring at Sirius Black.” Anya giggles quietly, and the two of them turn to look at the boys again. Remus has nearly finished his plate and is looking a little bit better. Elsea would feel like a total creep if she wasn’t genuinely interested in him.

“Can you keep a secret?” Elsea whispers girlishly.

“Well _,_ duh,” Anya says, then stops. “Well, actually no. But I can when it comes to you. I promise. I’ve never told anyone about that time you got diarrhea in Divination third year.”

Elsea glares at her. “Don’t bring that up.”

“Okay! You won’t hear about it again!” Anya promises. “Seriously, I won’t tell. Friends honor.”

They’ve been best friends for a long time, and Elsea knows, with Anya at least, this means something. She believes in all that honor and duty sort of mumbo jumbo that no one really goes through within the real world. It’s endearing, and a quality Elsea feels fiercely protective of.

So Elsea smiles and asks, “What do you know about Remus Lupin?”

 

-.-

 

Remus wonders if his friends will _ever_ stop talking about bloody _wizarding weed._

He’s not a straight-laced square; that’s absolutely impossible when he’s prone to transforming into a rabid animal once a month and feeling the need to rip out jugular. Remus can always use a little distraction, though _little_ is the operative word. But since coming back to school this fall, all Sirius and Peter seem to do is get high. Or talk about getting high. Or talk about the High Roller.

It’s exhausting.

Even James is getting tired of it, Remus thinks. From his new relationship with Lily to his Head Boy duties to the Quidditch squad, James is busier than ever. He doesn’t have time to smoke behind the stands with Sirius and Pete after training anymore.

“My latest theory,” Sirius is saying, as he drums his fingers on the table excitedly, “is that the High Roller doesn’t even go to school here.”

“No!” Peter gasps. He’s a great audience. He reacts at all the right times. Remus just rests his head in his hand and watches James, who is staring at Lily as she interacts with some of her friends. He’s grateful they have to leave soon for class, because otherwise, he doesn’t know if he can stand another second of Sirius. He loves the bloke, to death and whatnot, but he’s taking this to a whole different level.

“Yeah,” Sirius leans forward, looking around, “I reckon the High Roller lives in Hogsmeade somewhere. Has a few delivery boys come and pick it up. Maddox is one of them.”

“Well, there is one way we could find out,” Peter says, rubbing his hands together like an insect. “But it’s a bit risky.”

Remus watches as Sirius’ eyes widen with surprise.

“You? Risky?” Sirius challenges. “Tell me more.”

Remus scoffs, watching as Peter quite literally cracks his knuckles in preparation.

“Okay, what if we, like, used the Imperius Curse.”

James drops his fork at the word _imperius_ . “ _Wormtail_ ,” he sputters, “what the fuck?”

“Cool your jets man, it was a joke.”

“Have you dropped acid?” James snaps. It’s about time someone did, Remus decides. He watches in amusement. “Wow, Peter. That’s the worst joke I’ve heard in my life.”

Sirius laughs, patting James on the shoulder. “Hey, relax man.”

“But yeah man, chill. I was _joking_.”

“Putting Ricky Maddox under the imperius curse...” James trails off, sitting back in his seat. “Alright, I guess it was pretty funny.”

As they continue to discuss whether or not Ricky Maddox actually knows the identity of the High Roller, Remus’ eyes scan the Great Hall. He smiles briefly at Gemma Morrison, who catches his eye, before finding the prefect from the Hogwarts Express whispering with her friend.

Elsea Holmes is certainly not stoned anymore, with her dirty blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and her robes in pristine condition.

She looks up briefly and catches him staring. Her eyes widen for a moment before she shoots him a flashy grin. Remus quickly turns his head and looks away. He knows he probably looks like a total arse, but he doesn’t want to Elsea Holmes catch him staring and get the wrong idea.

He’s heard things about her. Quite a lot of things. She hangs out with all those notoriously stoned Ravenclaws all the time. She’s pretty, sure, and probably pretty smart since she’s in Ravenclaw. But smart and pretty girls who aren’t afraid to do bad things are the worst kinds of girls.

“Should we leave for potions then?” he asks, interrupting whatever conversation the rest of his friends are having. They all nod and somehow Sirius and Peter manage to continue their conversation behind them as they loop out of the Great Hall and down towards the dungeons.

James knocks his shoulder against Remus’. “Lily let me to second base last night.”

Remus raises his eyebrows appreciatively. “Did she really? Way to go, Prongs.”

“It was like, just for a few seconds. Then Mary McKinnon walked in.” James shrugs, looking dreamy. “But I felt it. Over the bra. She’s well-endowed, Moony. _It’s happening_.”

It’s not like James Potter hasn’t felt up any girls in his time at Hogwarts. In fact, Remus is pretty sure James has had his hands on quite a few pairs of rather nice tits in his day. It’s just that the boy is absolutely head over heels in love with Lily Evans. Remus can’t blame him; Lily is smart and pretty. Total package.

“Well, best of luck to you.” Remus smacks him on the back as they stroll into the Potions classroom. Slughorn is already standing in the front of class and they all file into their respective seats. The four of them are no longer allowed to share a station, seeing as Sirius and James have “pyromaniac tendencies.”

So James and Remus join their partners, a couple of Hufflepuff blokes who are perpetually stoned, while Sirius and Peter find their station right behind them.

Remus starts to wonder if everyone in the damned castle is high all the time and he doesn’t even know it.

“Lupin, Potter, far out,” a Hufflepuff that Remus can’t remember the name of, practically yawns at them. “We’re gonna have a sick time.”

Remus nods, James grins goofily.

“Oh yeah, Jason,” he says, nodding his head, “I just hope you’re good at this class.”

“Why, man?”

“Because Remus and I have very selective memories, you see. I don’t even know how to make a forgetfulness potion.”

“Potter, bro,” Jason croons, “you learn how to make that as a first year.”

James scratches the back of his head and puts an arm around Remus. “In one ear out the other, you know?”

“Yeah man,” Jason laughs, “ _totally_.”

Just as Remus is about to apologize, because they very well do know how to make a forgetfulness potion and James is just being a git, Slughorn quite literally roars for attention.

“What the fuck?” Sirius, from behind Remus, rightfully whispers.

Slughorn looks at the class, his usual proud expression plastered on his face as he crosses the room.

“That was the work of a little potion I like to call ‘Liquid Animagi,” Slughorn announces, clapping his hands together, “I’d say you’d learn to make it this year, but frankly, that’s far too advanced for the Hogwarts curriculum.”

Remus and James exchange a knowing look. They are all too familiar with ‘liquid animagi.’

Just as Slughorn is about to burst into one of his famous self-indulgent speeches, two girls scurry into the room.

“Sorry we’re late Professor!” the shorter one cries, nearly stumbling over the back of Sirius’ chair. Remus can see him staring at her with literal hearts in his eyes.

The other girl, however, is much more collected. “Hi,” Elsea Holmes mouths to Remus. He feels dread in his stomach and he quickly looks back down at his textbook.

The girl sure knows how to arrive fashionably late. She’s calm and collected as her ponytail bobs and she and her friend settle into their station. Remus glances at her friend. She’s very pretty, but a bit childish, with her hair in a complicated french braid and bright, non-uniform chunky clogs on her feet.

He should probably start looking away before she starts trying to say ‘hi’ again.

“Nice!” James claps his hand on his back. “She was a damn good snog. I mean, _damn good_.”

“Prongs,” Remus lowers his voices and leans in, “she won’t stop bloody staring at me.”

“Really? That’s great.”

“No, no it’s not.”

James furrows his brows, “I don’t see the problem there, mate.”

“Three words,” Remus mutters, “ _furry little problem_.”

“Never stopped you before,” James says, smirking. “And she’s _still_ looking, what the hell did you do to her, Moony?”

“I didn’t do anything.” Remus shrugs noncommittally as James’ smirk grows wider. Remus can tell that James is about to go to town on him when, in an unlikely turn of events, Professor Slughorn saves the day with an abrupt clearing of his throat and a pointed stare.

As Remus settles onto his seat and flips open his book to the page of the potion they’ve been instructed to brew, he can hear the muffled giggles of Sirius and Peter behind him.

James turns over his shoulder and whispers, “What’s on the docket for today, boys?”

Sirius leans forward, a wolfish grin on his face. “Lestrange.”

“But it’s always Lestrange,” Remus argues, abandoning his work and joining James. “We should go for someone new.”

Just last week Sirius hexed Lestrange into sporting a rather obnoxious pair of bright green elephant ears for nearly three class periods. Not even Remus could ignore the hilarity, and in fact, _might_ have given Padfoot the spell. But he fears retaliation from the Slytherins, and with present circumstances, he doesn’t think their revenge would be in quite as good humor.

“C’mon, look at him.” Sirius nods in his direction. “Have you ever seen someone look that annoying while sleeping in class?”

Remus glances across the room to find the hard-faced Rodolphus Lestrange, eyes shut and head resting against the heel of his thin, wiry hand. It doesn’t make much sense at all, how the little crease between his brows is so utterly irritating. Remus notices that he’s sitting right across from Elsea’s friend and she couldn’t look less pleased.

“You’re right,” Remus says, shaking his head furiously. “Forget I said that. What’s the game plan?”

James leans his head in for discussion. Despite maybe his affection for Lily Evans and Quidditch strategy, there’s nothing that gets James going like a prank. He’s the self-titled pranking King of Hogwarts, something he claimed drunkenly at a party during their fifth year right before Sirius dumped a bucket of frog guts all over his head. The prank war between the two of them is almost as wild as the one they’ve all got going with the Slytherins.

“I’d think Lestrange would look posi-tute-ly dreamy with a load of shrinking potion all over that monstrous snout of his,” James suggests.

Lestrange does have a rather large nose.

“That’s a good one,” Remus agrees. “It’s almost like we’re helping, too.”

Peter snickers.

“No, no. I have one already. Ready for this?” Sirius prompts, cutting them off. He looks around at all of his friends with excitement. “Over the summer I found this old potion book. It’s the oldest damn thing I’ve ever seen, it’s probably from around Merlin’s day, for an approximation. Anyway, I found this great little number that burns off fibers. We can really fuck Lestrange up with that one.”

“Burns off... fibers?” James repeats. “Sorry, what?”

“What do you mean ‘what?’” Sirius asks. _“It burns off fibers_.”

“Yeah, but, well. You’re gonna have to be a bit clearer.”

“Essentially it removes hair, fabric, anything with fibers,” Sirius explains. “Like if we made some of the potion and dropped it on Dumbledore’s beard, it would burn off.”

“When you say burn off do you mean like, horrifically? With fire? Because last time we started a fire in Potions, James almost got expelled,” Peter says, worried.

James chuckles to himself. “Good times.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Not at all.” Sirius rolls his eyes, looking helplessly at Remus. “What’s the word I’m looking for here, Moony?”

Remus shrugs as the boys look at him, waiting.

“How could I possibly know?” Remus asks. They continue to stare at him, pathetically clueless. “Do you mean dissolves?”

“Yes!” Sirius almost shouts, “Yes, dissolves. It dissolves fibers. Good.”

“Okay.” James lowers his voice, nodding. “So what? Are we gonna make him bald?”

“Too far,” Remus says quickly while James sighs with exasperation.

Sirius continues, speaking rather loudly. “No. Good idea, but another time, Prongs. Today we are going to make—“

“Boys!” Slughorn cries from the front of the room. He’s usually not keyed into their side conversations. Lily keeps him occupied with her constant participation. “Did you hear _anything_ I was saying at all?”

They all stare at him, dead silent, until Sirius pipes up, “You were just enlightening us on your expert credentials, sir.”

Remus suppresses a groan.

“Well, very good. Very good,” Slughorn mumbles, then turns back to his expert credentials.

 

-.-

 

“I’m ruddy awful at potions,” Anya mumbles, her finger sliding down their textbook as Elsea busies herself with the chopping. After the minor scene caused by Sirius Black and his friends, Slughorn had them all move to work on their respective potions. Anya and Elsea had been assigned to create the Liquid Animagi of a walrus with their partners, Rodolphus Lestrange and Markus Point, who literally awful Slytherins.

“Then let me do it,” Point snaps, reaching forward and grabbing the book from Anya’s hands. Elsea just glares at him but continues her chopping.

“Fine,” Anya sighs. “Less work for me.”

Point glares at her, reading the book and proceeding with the potion. Lestrange lets out a loud snore.

“Nice, great,” Anya says, resting her hands on her head.

Elsea rolls her eyes. “You know, Anya, you could just tell him to fuck off. You’re ten times the wizard he is.”

Anya smiles and blushes a soft shade of pink. “Yeah, but that’s not—“

“I heard that,” Point mumbles, glaring.

“You were meant to,” Elsea says, sneering at him.

“That’s really rich, coming from _you_ ,” Point spits, glaring daggers at Elsea. “Haven’t a magical bone in your family tree and you’re trying to say I’m less of a wizard?”

Though it used to cut deep when the Slytherins would poke and prod at her background and blood status, now it’s just a typical Monday morning. Elsea and Anya ignore him.

“I don’t even care, honest to Merlin,” Anya says. “It’s not like being good at potions will make Archie finally notice me.”

Elsea looks around the room, confused. “Sorry, what? Is Archie in this class?”

“No, no. But I mean, like, generally.”

It takes everything in Elsea not to heave a loud sigh and roll her eyes dramatically.

“Right,” Elsea resumes her chopping, tongue in cheek, “getting good grades is important too, though.”

“I know that,” Anya snaps. “But it’s my last year at Hogwarts and I just want things to be different, you know? How long have I liked Archie for? My entire life?”

“That would be impossible because you didn’t know him before Hogwarts, but okay, sure. Your _entire_ life.”

“Well, it feels like my entire life, _Elsea_. Don’t you know what it’s like to be in love with someone?”

Elsea nods her head. “Sure I do.”

Anya seems taken aback. “Wait, you do?”

“My heart isn’t made of stone, you know.” Elsea tosses the contents of her cutting board into the cauldron so Point can continue to stir. Lestrange starts drooling on the table. “I’m capable of love and other _human_ emotion.”

“Who could you have possibly loved?” Anya says. She doesn’t mean to sound condescending, Elsea knows, but it irritates her anyway.

“Well, I love my brother and his girlfriend,” Elsea tells her, shrugging casually. “And my parents.”

“They don’t count.”

“Why don’t they count?”

“Because, they’re not _romantic_ love.” Point snorts at this, but Anya continues. “They’re not going to hold your hand and kiss you beside the fire. They’re not going to take you out and you know, afterward, do the thing.”

“Yeah well,” Elsea lowers her voice to a whisper. She doesn’t need any more outbursts from Point. “Archie is an animal. He wouldn’t do that to you either.”

She pauses; Anya stares at her in shock.

“Well actually, he would most definitely ‘ _do the thing_ ’ whenever you want. Isn’t love wonderful?”

Anya huffs, her face red with anger, looking like she’s been slapped. “Archie would be a great boyfriend; you just can’t see it because you’re too far up his cute arse.”

Elsea leans forward and lets out a loud, ugly retching noise. Like she would go anywhere near Archie’s _nasty_ behind. Just as she’s about to really ham it up, Anya’s eyes widen over Elsea’s shoulder.

“Excuse me,” Remus Lupin says, placing his hand on Elsea’s shoulder as he slips past her towards the store cupboards. Elsea blushes. Did he just hear her fake vomiting? She wants to bury her head in her hands and run into the Forbidden Forest, never to be seen again. There is literally nothing she can come up with at the moment more unattractive than a girl doubled over making retching noises.

“You’re fine,” Elsea manages to choke out as she begins to process the thought that Remus Lupin has his hand on her shoulder. But just as she can feel a tightening in her stomach, it’s gone, and Remus has gone off to dig through the bottom shelf.

She’s only just started to admire his bum when Rodolphus Lestrange lets out a blood-curdling shriek.

Remus Lupin is running away before Elsea even grasps what’s happening. “What is—“

“—MY TROUSERS!” Rodolphus shrieks causing the entire class to freeze in terror. “You _removed_ my trousers!”

“I didn’t touch your trousers,” Remus insists, hands in the air. “See? No trousers.”

Anya stares at Elsea and giggles. “So I guess you’re not his type then, huh?”

Elsea hits Anya playfully on the arm. Things are about to get good.

Rodolphus runs across the room, clad in pants with little snakes on them. His wand is drawn, pointed outwards towards Remus and his friends. Elsea bites her lip in anticipation. The entire class is doubled over in laughter.

“You took them! My fucking trousers!”

“Lestrange, pal,” Black says, wandering calmly to Remus’ side. “Just because you forgot to come to class with trousers on doesn’t mean that we had anything to _do_ with it. Try to apply at least a bit of logic to your life now and again. I know, it’s hard for you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Black. No wonder everyone _hates_ you.” Lestrange is nearly hysterical. Elsea has to cover her face so no one sees her laughing.

“I like Black,” James says. “So does Wormtail.”

Lestrange lets out an exasperated cry. “You annoying fucks. This is not the last you’ll be hearing from me I swear on fucking Merlin—“

“—Language!” Slughorn cries, seeming to have just woken up from a long nap. “What is the meaning of this language?”

“Lupin disappeared my trousers!” Lestrange accuses, lowering his wand.

“Disappeared your trousers?” Slughorn asks, scratching the back of his head. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Lestrange shouts but quickly lowers his voice when he realizes he probably needs to butter up Slughorn as much as possible. “I mean, yes. I’m sure. He came over and spilled a bottle of purple liquid all over my pants and now _they’re_ _gone_.”

Slughorn sighs but just as he opens his mouth, however, Point lets out a grunt. Suddenly, all of the Slytherins in the classroom are shouting and clutching their faces. Elsea’s jaw drops as she notices the entirety of the Slytherin seventh years in their class growing bright yellow spots on their faces.

It takes everything she has not to fall over with laughter.

 

-.-

 

The rest of the day isn’t half as eventful as potions class in the morning. After all the Slytherins were shipped off to the hospital wing, Slughorn gave Remus and his friends detention. But after a bit of schmoozing on Potter’s part lifted it.

Elsea is exhausted by the time her schedule finishes. She throws herself into her favorite armchair in the back of the library along a row of windows that faces the grounds.

There aren’t many people around on account of the nice weather outside, but Elsea has more important things to deal with than enjoying the weather. She flips open a Herbology book Professor Sprout lent her that afternoon and waits on Archie.

It takes him literally forty-five minutes to arrive. By the time he does, she’s fit to be tied. Elsea hates waiting on people, specifically Archibald Blackwater III. And she’s _always_ waiting on Archie.

“Sorry I’m late, babe,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek and falling into the seat next to her. “Got a bit tied up with a couple fifth year Gryffindors. They’ve heard,” he leans forward, bring his voice down to a hushed whisper, “the High Roller has stronger stuff. Wanted to try some of it.”

Elsea scrunches her eyebrows together. “First of all, _never_ call me babe again. Second, where the hell did they hear that?”

Archie shrugs. “Beats me, _babe_ , but that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Her face twists in concern and she tucks her legs underneath her. She’s gonna have to let the ‘babe’ slide for now.

Archie scoots his armchair a bit closer and gives it to her straight, “People are getting bored of the old stuff.”

Elsea mouths the word ‘bored’ to herself three times before she is able to muster a response.

“Bored?” she sputters. “Of my product?”

“Well, yeah.”

Elsea shakes her head in disbelief. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been talking to Maddox. He says nobody wants to buy the plain old stuff anymore. He says people find it too familiar or something.”

Elsea’s stomach drops.

“ _Familiar_?” she snaps. “What do they want? Magical exploding marijuana that they can snort?”

Archie shakes his head. “No. But, hey, can you do that?”

Elsea gives him a stern look. “How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t snort marijuana you bloody _idiot_.”

“Right, okay sorry. So, what I was saying is, apparently, Hadley and Webb are having trouble selling too. People are just looking for something new now. Something stronger.”

“That really shouldn’t be my problem.” Elsea is adamant. She’s a small businesswoman, not a leader of a cartel. “I don’t sell hard drugs, Arch.”

“Not hard drugs, just like,” he shrugs, “something a little more... relaxing. It’s a fucking ugly world out there, Els. People are tired of waking of every morning wondering whose name is gonna be in the Prophet, dead or missing. They’re sick of sitting through the day with all that shit floating around their heads, draining them. They need something to take their minds off of it. They need something stronger. Desperately.”

“Then they can go to Hogsmeade and get some Wiz coke from that weirdo who sits in the back of The Three Broomsticks,” Elsea says.”Don’t you remember that time we fucked with that coke? You fucking lost your _mind_.”

“Unfortunately.”

“I give them my best. I work hard for these people. If they think that they need something more, that’s their issue.”

Archie nods, but Elsea can tell that he disagrees.

“You think it might be my prices?” she asks, biting her lip. “Should I bring them down again?”

It’s a rare moment that one of her dealers sees her in a slight state of worry. But, then again, Archie isn’t just one of her dealers. Despite his, well, Archieness, he’s a friend. Possibly her closest. She trusts him.

“No.” Archie shrugs. “They’re all too pathetic to not pay. Besides, I’m not telling you to go and bake them heroin brownies, alright? I’m just saying they need something with a bit more of a punch. Like, that sort of stuff you take when you’re sick in St. Mungo’s, that medicine? Something recreational, non-addictive, able to knock you out.”

Elsea blinks once and stares at him face. Medicine you take at St. Mungo’s? Medicine like…

“Oh!” she cries, and suddenly she’s digging through her bag liked a madwoman. “Oh!”

“What?” Archie’s face twists in confusion.

She’s silent for a moment before she retrieves a small orange bottle from her knapsack. Archie stares at it in confusion.

“What the bloody hell is that?” he asks.

“ _Quaaludes_ ,” she explains, smiling to herself, rolling the bottle around in front of her eyes. “It’s Stan’s. For his back pain. I had to take it away from him because he took like four at once.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Oh Archie, you’re adorable when you’re confused,” Elsea says, feeling her confidence coming back. “It’s a pain-killer. Maybe you know them as ludes?”

Archie frowns. “Ludes?”

“Yes.”

“Uh, nope?”

“Listen, how about I just show you what it does. We’ll take a pill each. Usually, you take two to three to get anywhere, but since it’ll be our first time, I think we should ease into it.”

“Ah,” Archie says, nodding, “Sounds romantic. Okay, I think I’m in. Is it dangerous at all? I don’t wanna die or anything.”

“You’re not gonna die.” Elsea rolls her eyes. “Remember you asked that the first time we smoked? Look at you now.”

Archie smiles to himself.

“When are we gonna do this?” Archie asks, cracking his knuckles. “Because I have some plans this week that I don’t want to be completely fucked up for.”

“Oh yeah,” Elsea says dryly. “I’m sure you do.”

“ _I do_. I have Quidditch tryouts and I’m the captain this year and—“

“Yes, yes. I get it you’re amazing, you have a life. I was thinking sometime next week, so we can get this show on the road as soon as possible and I can contact Stan to make sure I can get more.”

“Stan the man.” Archie’s smirk grows wider. “He’s always pulling through for you.”

“He’s always pulling through for us.” Sometimes Elsea likes to give Archie a little more credit in this whole scheme than she really deserves. “I’ll try to, you know, do a little magic on it.”

“I thought you were a grower?”

Elsea bites her lip. He’s right. She’s never _actually_ fucked around with a pill. “Maybe we don’t have to? Maybe we can just sell as is? You know?”

“Oh yeah, of course.” Archie looks at her proudly. “I’m good with Tuesday of next week.”

She can barely believe they're planning out a time to take quaaludes. She’s never taken them herself, but she’s not sure the planned usage of them will have such as impressive of an effect. “Yeah, we’ll take them then.”

“So is this an us thing? Or can we tell Anya?” he asks, sinking comfortably into his chair. “Because hiding shit from her is getting exhausting, frankly.”

“Is it? I think it’s quite easy, actually.”

“She’s been acting so weird around me this year, though. I think she knows.”

Elsea almost laughs. “That’s not it.”

“Do you know what’s up with her, then?” Archie asks, concerned. It’s strange to see him that way considering how narcissistic he is most of the time.

“Well,” Elsea sighs, preparing herself to lie. “She’s just a bit worried about her family, is all. They’re all muggles, Arch. It’s hard for her.”

“Right.” Archie nods, taking it in. She can tell that he believes her. “I should’ve thought of that first. Either way, she’s just constantly asking what I’m doing now. Or how I am _whenever_ I’m high. Don’t you know that’s the worst? You ever tried to answer that question stoned, Els?”

“Don’t be stupid,” she snaps. “It’s not that hard. Maybe you just need to get a grip.”

“Maybe _you_ just need to be honest with your best friend so when she asks how I’m feeling on a Tuesday afternoon I can just say: _high as fucking hell._ ”

“You can still say that you know. As long as you don’t say where you got that high from.”

“But what if she asks?”

“She won’t. She doesn’t care that much.”

“But what if she _does_.”

“Well _shit,_ Archie.” Elsea is ready to slap him hard in the face. “ _Lie_.”

“But I’m a bad liar.”

“Oh, shut up.” Elsea places a comforting hand on his knee. “You’re a terrific liar. A brilliant, beautiful liar. Almost as good as me.”

Archie smirks. “Are you trying to lie to me right now?”

“No! No! Of course not,” Elsea insists. “Why else would we be friends if you weren’t an expert liar? What else are you good for?

“Well,” Archie croons, getting a bit too close for Elsea’s liking. “I have been told that I’m quite a looker.”

“Really?” Elsea asks, placing her hand on his cheek. She lowers her voice to a husky whisper. “Because I think, that maybe you hang out with too many good liars, then.”

Elsea pushes his face back and bonks him on the head with the palm of her hand.

“Ouch,” Archie whines, rubbing his forehead. “My self-esteem.”

“You’ll recover.”

“So we’re not telling her,” Archie says, one more time. “Are you sure about this?”

“Never been surer of anything in my life.”

“Okay…” Archie trails off. “But I hope you know she’s not as clueless as you think.”

Elsea just shrugs.

 


	3. Police & Thieves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know, you sound to me,” Elsea pauses, shoving her hand in her pocket, "like someone who could use a hit or two.”

As far as Elsea is concerned, wrapping Remus Lupin around her finger should be no harder than a first year charms exam.

She has a foolproof plan, and with the help of Anya, she expects nothing but success.

First, she’s going to flirt her little behind off. She’s going to flirt until the sun comes up. She’s going to flirt so hard, with such fiery passion, that Remus Lupin’s eyebrows just might be singed off his gorgeous face.

Second, she’s going to listen.

“Boys love it when they know you’re interested in what they’ve got to say,” Anya told her, just before she left. “Even if they’re talking about their athlete’s foot or Quidditch stats, they’ll appreciate a good listener. Trust me.” And Elsea does trust her. If Remus speaks, she’s going to be all ears. If he breathes, all ears. Everything, all ears, all the time. 

Third, and possibly Elsea’s favorite part of her faultless plan, is the subtle touching. This one is self-explanatory. She’s been practicing the art of delicate arm brushes and shoulder grazes for years. In the past she’s been able to time a well-placed cheek kiss so that she can escape with a girlish flip of her hair and a slight swing of her hips. She has a 100% success rate in seduction. And with Anya’s help, she reckons she won’t lose a single statistic.

As she hurries up the steps from the grounds, her robes billowing behind her in the cool air, she stops at the top, checking her watch for the seventh time on her journey back up from the greenhouses, and pushes the doors open.

“Sorry I’m late!” she gushes, tucking her long plait behind her ear and smiling sweetly.

Remus Lupin is leaning casually against the large oak doors to the Great Hall between two potted plants. His hair is tousled in his usual ‘I’ve been studying and running my hands through my hair repeatedly’ look, and he has noticeable bags underneath his eyes.

She ran the last few steps so that she’d get the light pink glow on her cheeks. Elsea comes to a stop in front of him. “Hope you weren’t waiting long. I was just helping Professor Sprout prepare for a lesson tomorrow.”

Remus just looks at her and says, “Just fifteen minutes.”

“Right,” Elsea did not expect  _ this _ kind of reaction, “well, as I said, helping a professor. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again!”

He nods his head coolly. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Elsea echoes automatically. She claps her hands together awkwardly, not really sure where she was going. “Just one second.” She buries her hands into her robes and pulls out two tiny bags of seeds and squats in front of the plant on his left. It had been her plan all along, a little cover-up for why she had been at the greenhouses. She didn’t want Remus to suspect anything, and she saw the plants looked a bit peckish on her way out. With a wave of her wand, she waters down the seeds in the plant and smiles. “Ah, there. That should help.”

Remus looks at her, puzzled. “What are you doing?”

“Professor Sprout asked me to help out a bit with the plants around the castle. They just look so famished, don’t they?” she replies as she waters the second plant. Remus nods.

“Uh… sure. Let’s get going,” Remus pulls his wand from his robes and starts towards the doors to the grounds.

Elsea furrows her brow in confusion. “Don’t we usually start at the Astronomy Tower? That’s where we find most of the students out of bed at this hour.”

“We start on the grounds,” Remus says, looking at her a bit cruelly. “Lily announced it at the meeting on the train. Grounds and then work our way up. Suppose you were a little too…”

He doesn’t need to finish. She forces a smile and cackles loudly. “Oh! Ha, ha, right. That’s right. I remember her saying that. My bad!”

What the hell is wrong with her? She’s sounding so… Anya around  _ Archie _ .

“S’alright.” Remus nods. “Let’s get going, then?” He’s trying his damndest not to make eye contact with her. 

Elsea nods a little too eagerly and steps around him to push open the doors. She skips down the steps, wand at the ready, looking around the grounds for any signs of students.

“See anything?” Elsea asks. Remus shrugs noncommittally. “No?”

“No.”

They walk next to each other silently. She wishes for something intelligent or witty or cute for her to say. She’s supposed to be flirting, god dammit, not wallowing in awkward silence. Why didn’t he ask her more about the plants? Why didn’t he comment on her being a good student? A great person?

A rather cool wind sweeps around her cheeks as they make it to the courtyard. Remus walks around her to look behind a pair of bushes. He shrugs again, stuffs his hands into his pockets, and says, “Looks good.”

Elsea nods eagerly. “Yeah, good.” A thought strikes her and she forces a shiver. “Wow, bloody cold out tonight, isn’t it?”

He stares at her. She runs her hands along her arms. “Yeah,” he says.

Dammit.

“Should’ve worn thicker robes,” Elsea continues. She plays it up a bit, chattering her teeth.

Remus gives her a quick side-eyed glance before pulling his robes tighter to his chest. “I guess you should make sure to next time.”

Elsea tightens her lips. “I will. Thanks.”

It only takes a few moments of silence before he shuffles around and starts heading back out of the courtyard.

“There’s someone by the lake,” Remus says quickly. His slow strides pick up to a light jog.

Elsea hurries after him, shifting her wand between her hands in an effort to keep warm and, well, busy. Why is he making her so damn nervous? She’s Elsea Holmes, for crying out loud! She’s had offers from more boys to be their date to Hogsmeade than any other Ravenclaw girl.

“Can you slow down a little?” Elsea pleads, now almost sprinting after Remus. She can’t believe how seriously he’s taking this patrol thing. Being a prefect is a great responsibility and everything, but Merlin, her heart is going to give out. “Fucking hell.”

“What’d you say?” Remus pants, still upsettingly far ahead of her. “Hurry up. I saw a lighter and I bet it’s the Slytherins.”

Elsea does her best to run a little bit harder. She gets it, now. Remus hates the Slytherins. He pranks Slytherins. He’s as lackadaisical a prefect as she is, but when it comes to Slytherins, it’s a different story.

“I see you! Don’t try running!” Remus shouts. “Stay put!”

Elsea can make out two figures by the lake and sees a tiny flicker of light for herself. Fuck, she thinks, what if it’s Archie? It would be just like him to smoke out by the lakes when he knows she’s on patrol. But she couldn’t very well let her best friend off with a warning with the self-awarded Prefect of the Month as her partner.

“Yeah!” Elsea calls weakly, catching up to where Remus finally stopped running. “Yeah! Don’t-”

She stops to put her hands on her knees and regroup.

“- _ run _ .”

She can feel just about everyone’s eyes on her before she looks up.

“Lupi, man,” a tall, very obviously non-Slytherin boy, speaks. “You brought a chick?”

Elsea feels her face heat up.

“No, Jason, I’m not here to-”

The boy, Jason, taps the ash of his joint on the ground and takes a hit mid conversation. Elsea completely understands the allure of her product; she sells it, after all. But surely, he didn’t have to take a hit  _ while _ he was getting scolded. That’s overkill.

Jason is one of her best customers, though. And she’s probably smoked with him a billion times at this point.

“Rad. Sup Elsea. Who wants the next hit?” he grins, holding out the joint to them. “But remember, it’s puff puff _pass_. Not puff puff _puff puff_ _pass_. Right Fernando?”

Fernando shrugs.

“How high are you?” Remus asks. He almost looks concerned.

Jason doubles over in laughter, taking another quick hit. “I believe it’s ‘hi, how are you?’ actually.”

Elsea pulls out her wand at that.

“Alright,” she snaps, obviously annoyed. “Get the hell back inside or I’ll take fifteen points away from Hufflepuff.”

“ _ What? _ ” Jason’s eyes widen in concern. “You’re next blondie. Fernando, give her a hit. She’s high strung, man.”

Elsea glares at him. She is  _ not _ high strung. “It’ll be twenty points from Hufflepuff,  _ each _ .”

“What?” Fernando gasps as Jason stumbles forward.

“The first years don’t deserve this. What are you, a Professor?”

Elsea ignores him. “I swear to Merlin, I’ll--”

It’s just then that Remus stalks forward, snatches the lit joint from Fernando’s hands, and throws it into the black lake.

“What the?” Elsea gasps, surprised, as Jason gapes at him.

“Lupi, man, why the fuck did you do that?”

“Get the hell out of here, Jason.” Remus rolls his eyes. “We’ll have to give you detention if you don’t.”

Jason doesn’t take the hint. “Woah-woah-woah,  _ wait _ . You’re a  _ prefect? _ ”

Remus sighs, points at his badge.

Jason sinks to the ground dramatically. “Holy shit. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I thought it was fairly obvious,” Remus says, looking at Elsea for support. She nods.

“I feel like I’ve been betrayed.” Jason buries his face in his hands, Fernando sits by his side. “I thought you were cool.”

Elsea kneels down to their level, shaking her head. “Why don’t you get to bed, huh? You’ll feel much better about this if you rest.”

Jason stares up at her, his eyes are bloodshot and hooded. “You really think so, Elsea?”

“Of course,” Elsea taps his nose with her wand, “I’m an expert.”

Remus stifles a laugh from behind her.

“Okay,” Jason sniffles. “Only if you help me up.”

“Yes, yes, come here. I got you.” She stands up, offering her arms to the Hufflepuffs as they pulled themselves up. “Now let’s go.”

They both drop her at the same time, backing up sheepishly before running off.

“Goodnight!” Fernando calls over his shoulder. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome!” Elsea responds, waving wildly. She loves a happy customer. If this were any other situation she might have commented on the quality of weed they were smoking, but she’s on a mission. And Remus Lupin might not like that too much.

Remus looks at her, shaking his head. “They thanked you. You threatened to take points off their house and they thanked you.”

Elsea smirks. “Yeah well, I’m a prefect for a reason. I just have  _ a way with people _ .”

“Well I figured you certainly weren’t selected for prefect by your impeccable timeliness,” Remus says. She hits him lightly, this first subtle touch of the night.

“You just caught me on a bad day,” Elsea insists. “I’m pretty sharp actually.”

“Really? Because you weren’t too sharp when you were stumbling around on the Hogwarts Express.”

“Doesn’t count. I was high.”

“Oh, okay. Because that helps your case.”

The small bag in her pocket suddenly feels a bit heavier. “Have you never smoked before?”

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” Remus replies as they hurry up the steps and back into the castle. “I mean, I am a prefect after all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remus pulls the door open for her and she pokes at him, “Mr. Perfect.”

“Mr. Perfect  _ Prefect _ ,” Remus corrects.

“You know, you sound to me,” Elsea pauses, shoving her hand in her pocket. “like someone who could use a hit or two.”

It’s a risk, and it’s definitely not in the original Anya-Elsea game plan. But she’s confident now. She’s made him laugh for crying out loud.

“Sure,” he snorts.

She dangles the dime in front of his face. “I have a bowl hidden in the greenhouses. If you wanna, you know...”

Remus goes cold, just eyeing her and the baggie.

Elsea realizes she’s made a grave mistake.

 

-.-

 

Oh god. She likes him.

Remus had the idea in his head before from his little conversation with James during their potions lessons, but now, with Elsea dangling a baggie of marijuana in his face with a pleading grin and slightly desperate eyes - he knows for  _ sure _ .

“Well?” Elsea asks. She doesn’t seem as sure of herself as she was before, probably because Remus looks so taken aback.

“Listen,” Remus starts out, coughing slightly, but he honestly has no idea where he’s going with that. “No.”

Elsea drops her bag along with her hopeful expression. “No?”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

There’s a beat of painfully, painfully awkward silence.

“Well, why not?”

Remus glares at her. “That’s kind of a stupid question, isn’t it?”

Elsea freezes. Remus realizes that was a little harsh, but for Merlin’s sake, she just offered him weed on their patrol rounds. Is she mad?

“I--” she stutters, frantically brushing her fringe away from her face and stuffing the baggie back into her robes. “Me neither, I mean... what I’m trying to say is…I found that, yeah… it fell out of that bloke’s robes...”

It’s like watching a mermaid out of water. Remus can physically feel her struggles in his very soul. Her cheeks are flushed a particularly cute shade of pink and for a minute he feels some sympathy.

“Just don’t.” Remus decides to put her out of her misery. “It’s fine. I don’t care, we’ll just act like it never happened.”

“Okay?” Elsea squeaks. By the tone of her voice, he can tell that forgetting this whole thing is going to be harder said than done. “You’re not gonna like, tell Filch… are you?”

Remus shakes his head. Elsea sighs in relief. “Thank God,” she mutters. “That would be all kinds of hell, am I right?”

He stares at her.

“I mean--”

“Just, let it go, yeah?” Remus wants to drop this entire conversation for now and until the end of eternity. But he finds that if he gives her a break she’ll start to panic, ramble. Isn’t she supposed to be some sort of heinous bitch or something? He’s heard Blackwater call her Bitch Face for crying out loud. Who is this girl in front of him?

He can hear James’ obnoxious, all-knowing voice in the back of his head. “ _ She likes you Moony, she wants to have your cute wolfish babies and suck your cute wolfish dick.” _

“How about we split up?” Remus offers. It’s the best thing he can come up with, and probably the most beneficial for both of them.

However, Elsea actually looks hurt.

“Split up?” She sounds desperate. “What for?”

“Cover more surface area and whatnot.”

Elsea shuffles her feet. “I don’t think I know the castle well enough to wander around by myself in the dark.”

“You can- I have… you’re a  _ prefect _ ...” Remus puts his wand down. He feels like he owes something to her for being so uncharacteristically rude. “Fine. Okay, let’s just call it a night.”

“We literally started an hour ago,” Elsea protests, she’s starting to sound a bit angry with him, actually. “Are you seriously going to back out of your job as prefect - which I think you happen to take  _ very _ seriously - because I offered you a shitty dime?”

Remus raises his eyebrows and wills himself to go along with her. “Fine, you’re right. Let’s go.”

With that, he spins on his heels and takes off towards the dungeons. He can hear the soft pitter-patter of Elsea’s shoes as she hurries after him. This patrol has taken a horrific turn for the worst, and he wishes he had Sirius’ uncanny ability to turn anything awkward into a relaxing evening. He wishes he had his ability to snog fit girls who are interested in him and never think twice about them finding out a secret, or, you know, have to deal with Elsea Holmes and her baggie of marijuana.

He peeks his head down corridors and behind suits of armor, he double checks classrooms and even strolls around the Slytherin hallway a few times to make sure none of those arseholes are out of bed. He’d love to give them detention for something, especially since Sirius reported they were out to get him since the disappearing trousers incident in potions the other day.

Elsea trots behind him trying to make some slight conversation, but he’s only got monosyllables for her. He isn’t interested in chatter - in fact, he thinks it would be best if they just didn’t speak at all. Elsea is clearly interested in his and he thinks it’s so painfully obvious that he isn’t, which makes her infatuation so much worse.

Once again, he can hear Sirius’ voice in his head.  _ Look Moony, Elsea Holmes is a bloody nine. Nine point eight if you’re getting technical. She’s a score for you, mate. Why are you acting so bloody thick, yeah? Shag her. Shag the hell out of her. _

Nope. No. He’s better than that.

Elsea finally catches up to him. “I might be a bad listener but I’m pretty sure Lily said we were supposed to walk through the corridors during patrol not run.” She’s slightly out of breath when she talks, Remus almost feels guilty for it.

“I’m not running,” Remus says coolly. “I’m speed walking.”

“Speed walking!” Elsea laughs. “I hope that was a joke because I’ve literally haven’t sprinted this hard through the dungeons since I was a first year and I actually cared about showing up to lessons on time.”

Remus isn’t sure what to say to that. “Cool.”

Elsea scowls. “You know, maybe you’re right. We should just call it a night.”

“No, no.” Remus insists. “We’re almost done. And, as you said yourself, I take this job  _ very _ seriously.”

She glares at him but doesn’t say anything. They finish the dungeons in silence, Remus can practically feel her brain churning, thinking about how much of a prat he’s being. But he doesn’t care, not really. This is easily the most awkward patrol he’s ever been on and he’s been on a hell of a lot of patrols.

They make their way up the castle with even more minimal speaking. Elsea catches a couple of first years Gryffindors trying to sneak out to the kitchens and gives them detention with such bitterness that one of them starts crying on the spot. He reckons it might just be because they’re part of his house.

“You didn’t have to make them cry, you know,” he says as they turn up the stairs to the seventh-floor corridor.

“They were out of bed,” Elsea retorts. “They should learn.”

“Yeah, because you’ve never been out of bed after curfew.”

“Oh, my god. You’re so-” Elsea starts, but then stops short. “Nevermind.”

Remus is intrigued, looking at her intently as he asks, “What am I ‘so?’”

“You’re so…” Elsea stares at him, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s analyzing him, eyes looking him up and down when she says. “You’re such a  _ dick _ .”

“I’m not.” Remus reacts on an impulse, half laughing. “I’m  _ not _ a dick.”

“Yes, you are!” Elsea snaps her fingers and points at him eagerly. “You walk way too bloody fast and use way too many single syllable words to be anything else. You are a huge pulsating dick, Remus.”

Elsea looks happy with herself as Remus shakes his head vigorously. “None of those reasons constitute to me being a dick. At all.”

“Oh please,” Elsea says, “I know a dick when I see one.”

“I bet you do.”

Elsea’s expression drops. Remus immediately regrets everything he’s said in the past two hours.

“Did you just call me a slag?”

“Fuck,” Remus swears, looking away and shaking his head. “Fucking  _ no _ , I did not.”

Elsea looks slightly pleased she’s gotten this reaction out of him.

“I mean,” he clears his throat, how the tables have turned, “you hang around with that Blackwater bloke. Now that’s what I would call a dick. That’s what I meant.”

Elsea holds firm. “While I cannot disagree with that, I’m pretty sure you were calling me a slag. And I don’t like being called a slag, Remus. In fact, calling a girl a slag who has been ever so patient with you this shitty night happens to constitute to  _ you _ being a  _ dick _ . Funny how that works? Isn’t it?”

They stare at each other for a few seconds, Remus looking slightly horrified and Elsea looking much more than slightly peeved. He can practically feel the tension between them in the dark empty corridor. He wants to blink his eyes and have the entire night erased, start from scratch. Then he’d not have played her so hot and cold, might not have given her a little only for her to offer him to smoke. _ Bloody hell, Lupin, _ he thinks,  _ this is fucking shit _ .

“Very funny.” He scratches the back of his head. “We might as well finish our rounds.”

Elsea scowls at him. “Suppose we should.”

 

-.-

 

By the time Elsea gets back to the Ravenclaw common room she’s in an even worse mood than before. It doesn’t help that Anya is eagerly waiting up for her either, ready for all the juicy details that never occurred.

“Elsea,” Anya sing-songs, cross-legged on the couch. She looks way too chipper for two in the morning. “How was it?”

“It was…” Elsea sits next to her, trying to come up with a way to sum up the night without comparing it something offensive. “Well, he called me a slag.”

Anya looks shocked, frowning. She’s got her mouth guard sitting in its case, open, on the arm of the chair. Elsea eyes it warily but then turns back to her friend. “What exactly did he say? I’ll kick his arse!”

“He said,” Elsea starts angrily, and then stops. “Well, I called him a dick and then--”

Anya narrows her eyes. “Elsea!”

“A huge pulsating dick, actually.”

“Elsea,  _ no _ !”

The fire behind them crackles and Anya grabs the poker at Elsea’s feet and plunges it into the wood. The fire slowly roars back to life.

“He deserved it! I swear you should’ve seen how he was acting. It was… it was  _ weird _ .”

“Weird how?” 

“He just… like, well… Okay, maybe it’s my fault. I think I made him uncomfortable. Yeah, I definitely made him uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable how?”

“I may have dangled a bag of weed in his face? Like right under his nose?”

“Elsea!” Anya shrieks, then quickly clapping her hand over her mouth. “I thought you fancied him? And you should stop smoking.”

Elsea ignores the last bit. “Don’t yell, for fucks sake you’re gonna wake the entire castle up.”

“Sorry,” Anya apologizes quickly. “But seriously, what the hell, Elsea? That wasn’t the plan at all. You were supposed to just be irresistibly adorable. When are you going to understand that smoking marijuana is not cute?”

“Did I say I think it’s cute?” Elsea snaps. “First off, if anything, smoking is fit as shit. Second, the moment felt right.”

“Did it?” Anya asks warily. “What exactly was this moment? Did he profess his undying love for cannabis? Was he wearing one of those bloody awful shirts with a pot leaf on it? No,” Anya snaps her fingers, “he was  _ already  _ high?”

Ignoring Anya, Elsea smiles fondly, remembering the 2.5 seconds that the night was actually not a complete failure. “Okay. No, he wasn’t doing that. But we just busted these two Hufflepuffs for smoking a joint out by the lake-”

“-this already sounds incredibly stupid-”

“- _ shut up _ , Anya. And we were walking back into the castle talking about when we met on the train. How I was stoned, and all, you know. I told you this story like six times. Anyway, we were really getting along, taking the piss out of how high I was that day… I thought he might be interested. Thought he might fancy me a bit.”

Anya nods understandingly. “So I’m guessing he wasn’t, right?”

“No. But that’s not even it.” Elsea frowns, confused. “I don’t get it. He wasn’t just not interested, he literally turned cold. It was like he was a different person.”

“Different person how?”

“Well, he called me a slag. Then he called Archie a dick, which is fine because he is one.”

Anya stares at her warningly.

“Oh come on. You know he is. But still, he also proposed we  _ split up _ . That’s never once happened to me on patrol. Not even when I had that one night with that awful Slytherin. And he threatened to hex me like six times. The Slytherin. Not Remus.”

“That sounds serious.” Anya opens her arms for a hug, “It’s okay. There are other mermen in the sea. Maybe you can date his friend.”

Elsea sighs but allows Anya to hug her. “Yeah, which one? Sirius Black? I’d rather die.”

“Maybe Pettigrew? Never heard him talk but he looks alright. Cute face.”

“Yuck, no. I think Remus is probably the last Gryffindor I’m gonna try anything with. They’re way too self-righteous.”

“Yes, completely. Gryffindors are such,” she lowers her voice and leans in close, despite the fact that no one is around, “ _ such cocks _ .”

“Oh, they are  _ such cocks _ .”

Anya and Elsea giggle as they pull apart. “James Potter was a damn good kisser, though,” Elsea says. “Knew just what to do with his hands.”

“Oh God!” Anya gushes, burying her head in her hands. “Don’t remind me of that night.”

“You snogged the Head Boy  _ that night _ ,” Elsea folds her arms over her chest proudly, “your shining moment. I’ll never  _ not _ remind you. Fifth-year Anya Darzi, snogging seventh year Hufflepuff Jonathan Fairbanks.”

“No,” Anya waggles her finger in Elsea’s face, “no, because he was a ruddy awful kisser and didn’t have any bloody idea what to do with his hands!”

“Should have snogged James.” Elsea shrugs playfully. “Still can, probably. Oh, double date!”

“He’s in love with Lily Evans, you dolt.” Anya flicks Elsea in the forearm. “Do you pay attention to anything I say?”

“You’re such a gossip Anya,” Elsea yawns loudly, “how could I possibly keep up?"

“Not that difficult, maybe you should smoke a little less.” Anya gets up from the couch before Elsea can even argue. “Okay. I’m going to collapse on the ground if I don’t get to bed right now.”

“Weak,” Elsea says, but she follows her. “Tomorrow is Saturday, who even cares?”

“ _ I  _ do,” Anya replies nastily. “I have to wake up early to help Archie train for his Quidditch match. He asked me.”

“And you said yes?” Elsea asks. “He’s captain, Anya. He has a team. He only wants you there so he looks cool.”

She’s constantly wary of Archie and Anya’s budding friendship. It always seems like it’s about to take off. Like maybe they’ll be more than a few awkward conversations and series of longing gazes. (Though, that’s only from Anya’s side). Elsea doesn’t really like the idea of them alone without her. 

“B.S. Elsea.” Anya insists. “I’m the last person he’d call on to make him look cool.”

“True. So he wants your Quidditch expertise?”

“ _ No _ . Just maybe, hopefully,” Anya starts dreamily, “he wants my  _ company _ .”

Elsea decides to stop there. Inside are several seventh year Ravenclaws, deep in sleep, who are willing and ready to hex the hell out of anyone who might disturb their slumber. While Elsea might always have a counter-curse at the ready, she’s in no mood to deal with Anya’s whining about curses and boys and  _ Archie. _

“Yeah, okay,” she says stiffly. She pushes the door open and together they tip-toe inside. Elsea collapses on her bed without bothering to change.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	4. The Joker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Like, to fuck raw, you know?” James explains. He looks at Sirius and Remus in shock, as if they should’ve had a clue what ‘rawdog’ was supposed to mean. “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard that before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of people asked about the pronunciation of Elsea's name. We pronounce it "El-Sea" or "Elsie." Hope that helps!

It’s a rare occurrence at the typically dreary, almost always rainy Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that a sunny and warm Saturday afternoon happens near the beginning of the term. Long before the madness of exams set in and when the lesson loads are the lightest, lovely weather is a gift from Merlin.

Along the lake dozens of students lounge in the sand, several swim near the shore, and a couple of naive first years are teasing the Giant Squid. Fifth year girls lie in the grass in their muggle shorts and t-shirts, hoping to catch the last bits of sun before the Scottish rain returns again, and a pack of fourth year boys linger a few meters away, ogling the girls and whispering huskily between themselves.

Remus sits with his back against an old oak tree, a muggle philosophy book resting on his knees and his hair pushed back in several directions. He looks as exhausted as he feels, with heavy bags underneath his red, bloodshot eyes. Sirius has made a minimum of six comments on the fact that Remus hasn’t smoked anything and yet he looks like he just finished hot boxing the Quidditch supplies shed with Jason and Fernando. Even James had joined in on the fun, making a few puns about werewolfism and stoners. Remus, who is infinitely tired of wizarding weed and all that bloody High Roller business, ignores them with the finesse of a proud Hippogriff. He won’t give them the goddamn time of day.

Luckily for him, James and Sirius have given up and are instead discussing where in the world Peter might be, who has been strangely missing for the last hour and a half.

“Maybe he’s finally snogging Joan Abernathy,” Sirius muses, idly scratching the short beard growing along his obnoxiously defined jawline. He’s wearing a cap that shields his eyes from the sun, and is lounging on his back in the grass. Remus, who is slightly allergic to grass, feels his skin itch just thinking about it.

“Abernathy is back with Maddox,” James replies. “They’re literally always snogging in the corridors. Haven’t you ever noticed?”

Sirius shrugs. “Maybe he’s snogging MacDonald then?”

“Padfoot,” James snickers, “Mary MacDonald would rather snog a dementor before Wormtail. Lily told me.”

“And what else does Lily tell you, Prongs?” Sirius reaches over and flicks James on the stomach. James, whose Potions textbook lies forgotten beside him, kicks at his best friend with his bare foot. Upon exiting the castle, James had screeched in joy at how wonderful the weather was, attempted to decree as Head Boy that all shoes and trousers were illegal and disposed of his immediately. He’s now sitting in just his boxers and a Quidditch t-shirt, which has a glowing golden snitch proudly in the middle. “I bet she says stuff like,  _ I love you James Potter  _ and _ Will you come into my secret garden? Please, tend to my garden, James.  _ Or no?”

“Yeah,” James says before tossing a pile of grass at Sirius. “That’s exactly what she says. Word for word. Verbatim, actually. Have you been spying on us? I’m impressed.”

Sirius waggles his brows. “Actually, she just said it to me last night.”

“ _ Why _ you little-” James cries and lurches forward, tackling Sirius to the ground.

Remus glances up at them for a mere second before shrugging and going back to his book. Though, it hasn’t been keeping much of his attention. His mind has been on the approaching full moon that night, looming above him like a dark, ominous cloud.

“I’ll beat the shit out of you, Padfoot!”

“Please do, James! I long for your touch!” Sirius shouts, muffled, as James basically humps him into the ground. This, unlike the weather, is not a rare occurrence. Remus has seen the two of them tackle each other, give one another strange love bites on their necks, and even snuggle on a sofa since their first year. Their intimacy is shocking to many, but not him. “Oh yeah! Keep going!”

James rolls off then because even James and Sirius have a line. He sits up, pushing his wild, dark hair off his forehead and sighs. “Seriously, though, where the hell is Wormtail?”

“I dunno.” Sirius shrugs, joining him in a sitting position. “How about you, Moony? Pete tell you where he was going this morning?”

“Yeah, told me he’d be shagging Snape in the Chamber of Secrets from twelve to three,” Remus chimes in, dully, as he flips the page of his book. 

Sirius and James snicker.

“Proper length of time,” Sirius mutters. “I hope Peter tops, at least.”

“No. No way. Peter? He’s a bottom,” James adds.

Remus rolls his eyes at both of them. “Power bottom, if anything, give him that.”

“Yeah, give him that Jamey-poo,” Sirius adds. “Think about it, though. Snivellus is a weakling, look at those bones. He’d shatter if he slipped down the stairs, mind you, I’ve tried that before. But Peter? He generates a lot of power. He may be small, but he’s mighty. The little git broke my hand last year, remember?”

James scratches his chin, thinking. “I believe you’re right, Padfoot. Wormtail would proper rawdog him.”

“Proper…  _ rawdog _ ?” Sirius breaks into a hysteric fit as James throws another pile of grass at him. Remus cracks a grin and shakes his head.

“James, man.” Remus shuts his book. “What the hell is a  _ rawdog _ ?” 

“Like, to fuck raw, you know?” James explains. He looks at Sirius and Remus in shock, as if they should’ve had a clue what ‘rawdog’ was supposed to mean. “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard that before.”

“I haven’t,” Remus says. “And I’d rather not hear it again, frankly. Especially in reference to  _ Pete _ .” He shivers to add effect. Sirius follows suit.

James laughs, rolling onto his back closer to Remus’ knee. “Would you prefer the term rawdog in reference to  _ Elsea Holmes _ ?”

“No,” Remus answers too quickly. Sirius looks at him, intrigued.

“Elsea Holmes?” he muses, smirking. Remus feels an uncomfortable stirring in the pit of his stomach. “That Ravenclaw with the cute bum? Friends with that douche Blackwater? And that cute Indian bird?”

“Oh yeah!” James nods. “She’s fit.”

“Great arse,” Sirius agrees.

“You already said that,” James says. “Great arse and cute bum are redundant.”

“No, I mean the Indian girl,” Sirius points out. “She’s got a smashing behind too. I’d like to see her back that arse up against my-”

Remus, who is paralyzingly uncomfortable, interrupts, “Uh yeah, that Elsea Holmes.”

Sirius grins. “Heard she’s a good snog.”

“Yeah, from me!” James and Sirius exchange high fives. “She was. Told Remus that. She wants him, by the way. Wants his cock.”

“Do you have to be so vulgar all the time?” Remus says, he’s trying to not come off as embarrassed as he actually is. But it’s difficult, considering the fact that he’s blushing furiously.

“Excuse me,” Sirius prompts, leaning forward. “You were the one who called Peter a power bottom before so you have no right to comment on our vulgarity, Moony. You  _ don’t _ have the right.”

“Aw, no, he’s just a little flustered.” James pinches Remus’ cheek. Remus just wants to die. “I’m guessing patrol didn’t go well, did it? How hard did she reject you?”

“Better question,” Sirius slides in, smirking up at Remus, “how hard did she leave you? Which shade of blue were your balls?”

“They weren’t blue you bleeding  _ twats _ ,” Remus snaps. “I don’t even want her. At all. She’s bloody mad, is what she is. Crazy trumps fit, anytime.”

“Bullshit,” says James.

“I’ll take her off your hands,” Sirius offers, stretching his arms into the air. A group of third year Ravenclaws stop near the water to stare up at him and giggle. “I’ll take one for the team.”

“Piss off. You don’t want her. Trust me.”

“Well shit man,” James exclaims. “What’d she do that was so bad? Declare all werewolves an abomination? As far as I’m concerned a girl like Elsea Holmes could do no wrong.”

“She just talks about nothing a lot,” Remus explains. “It always seems like she’s putting on some sort of show. It’s very transparent.”

Sirius looks nearly insulted. “So? She wants you, of course, she’s gonna try to impress you.”

“Yeah, but...” Remus is beginning to feel like he has no shot at winning this. His argument feels completely ridiculous the moment it escapes his mouth. “She literally threw a bag of weed in my face after we busted Jason and Nando at the lake.”

“Dude, she was gonna smoke you out?” Sirius asks, eyes wide. “That’s the  _ dream _ , man. What’s your problem?”

Sirius looks ready to slap Remus right in the face.

“My problem is,” Remus backtracks, “I’m a fucking werewolf, man. I can’t have Elsea Holmes on my tail.”

James laughs at Remus’ use of the word ‘tail’ before he continues.

“She’s smart. Fit, yes. Confident, intimidatingly so. She’ll figure me out in two point six seconds and I want nothing to do with it.”

“I don’t know,” Sirius shrugs, “whatshername was pretty damn smart and she never figured it out.”

“That’s because Moony bailed before things got too serious,” James points out.

“We done here?” Remus asks. “I think we’re done here.”

“I don’t.” James sits up and grabs at his ankles, smirking. “After Blondie offered you the Mary Jane, what’d you do?”

Sirius crosses his arms over his chest and looks like he’s struggling to hide a wild grin.

Remus’ stomach drops again and he sighs, falling back against the tree. “I told her I didn’t want to smoke with her.”

“And how did you do that, Moony?”

“Uh.”

“You bitched her the hell out, didn’t you?” James laughs. “Oh, Moony. Just like snog the girl. Give her a bone.”

“She’s not a dog, Prongs.” Remus rolls his eyes.

“She certainly isn’t,” Sirius yawns, stretching his arms again. “And I know my canines.”

They ignore him.

“I might have,” Remus scratches the back of his head sheepishly, “done more than just, you know, bitched her out.”

“What did you do?”

“I, uh…” he trails off, looking around. This has been eating him alive since the moment it escaped his mouth. “I might have implied, indirectly, that she’s a bit of a… well… a slag.”

Sirius bursts out laughing. James shakes his head. “Moony,  _ no _ .”

“Yeah I know,” Remus buries his head in his hands, “I wanted to rebuff her advances not insult her very being.”

Sirius is still laughing.

“I mean it, Moony,” James looks at him seriously for a moment, “you’re hurting the girl’s feelings, just like, be nice to her. It’s not going to kill you. And Merlin, apologize, for the slag comment.”

“I know and it might not kill me, but it sure as hell could kill her.”

“Oh don’t be so dramatic!” Sirius claps his hand on Remus’ knee. “It’s simple, flirt, snog, do some hand stuff, mouth stuff, shag like bunnies, and then break it off. The Padfoot Method is foolproof.”

“That’s the progression to any hookup, Sirius. Not some fancy, personalized method for seducing the ladies.”

Sirius smirks. “As far as you know.”

“Listen, it’s not that hard.” James ignores Sirius. “Be  _ nice _ . I’m not saying you should flirt with her or snog her or anything, but fuck, be nice. If she talks to you, answer. Answer nicely.  _ Nicely _ . Do it. If Lily’s taught me anything, it’s that the ladies like it when you’re nice. So be nice.”

“Shocking.”

“You’re so wise in the ways of women, Prongs.” Sirius lifts his hands and squeezes the air. “You’ll get to touch her knockers soon enough.”

James winks at him.

“But I’m not trying to make her fancy me,” Remus argues, frustrated. “I’m trying to get her to get the hell away.”

“That’s not gonna happen if you’re patrolling together. So deal with it,” James barks, then he shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this. Elsea Holmes is all over you and we have to tell you to  _ deal with it _ . You’re the weirdest bloke I know, Moony.”

Like clockwork, Peter comes to a skidding halt next to their tree. He’s sweating, with bright red cheeks and pit-stains in his t-shirt that hangs oversized on his skinny frame.

“Good afternoon, Wormtail,” James chirps, tipping his chin up to him. “Where have you been all my life?”

“Trying to get this!” Peter pulls a small baggie from the pocket of his jeans. “Took me forever to find Maddox, but I got it.”

They stare at the small baggie of wizard weed between Peter’s fingers. The iconic tiny gold crown, the symbol of the High Roller, glitters in the sunlight.

“Pete,” Sirius asks, furrowing his brow, “how much you pay for that?”

“Just five galleons,” Peter says proudly.

Remus’ jaw drops. “Peter that’s…. inflated, man.” James erupts into laughter.

“Nah, it’s fucking amped up, man. It’s not the regular shit. Maddox said it’s new, just on the market.”

“You’re a goddamn idiot,” James manages to choke out. Peter just frowns.

“I am not an idiot, Maddox gave me a special offer. Something  _ new _ .”

“He offers that every time,” James rolls his eyes, “it’s a classic Maddox gimmick. But I suppose it’s my fault you got caught in it. Should’ve warned you.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, now exasperated, “you right should have.”

“I’ll reimburse you, how about that? I think I owe you that much.”

“It’s alright,” Sirius pushes himself off the grass and swoops his arm around Peter’s shoulders. “I’m proud of you, my man. Let’s celebrate your first successful purchase.” Sirius looks around at the other boys. “No use trying to rope you two in, is there?”

James shrugs. “Lily might be looking for me, can’t risk getting caught with a mountain of pumpkin pasties again. She might suspect.”

Remus, whose mind has finally gotten off the subject of the full moon, but onto an even more painful one of Elsea Holmes, looks between his friends.

“Fuck it,” he declares. “Let’s go get high.”

“Well shit, if Moony’s in, I’m in.” James scoops up his book and jumps to his feet. He holds out a hand for Remus and together the four of them sneak off to the edges of the forest.

 

-.-

 

“Hey, Arch?” Elsea asks as they walk down the corridor. “I have a question.”

Archie just looks at her, still too breathless from quidditch practice to be his usually chatty self. Apparently, Anya had given him a run for his money when she charmed the bludger bat for “an equal playing field.” Archie had a few patches of dirt on his cheeks and a tiny scrape above his brow to prove it.

“Do you think I’m a slag?”

They’re heading to the owlery. It’s around ten in the morning, too early for Elsea but no one else seems to ever understand that.

Laughing, Archie shakes his head. “Not really.”

“You don’t think?”

“Hm, you did have that slaggy phase at the end of year five. Remember what you did to that Hufflepuff? On Valentine's day?”

“Yeah, okay, true,” she says calmly. She’s not really ashamed of her slaggy phase; she was fifteen, after all. Who isn’t a little slaggy at fifteen? “But like, this year. Have I been slaggy  _ this _ year?”

Archie looks at the ceiling pensively before answering.

“Well I don’t know what you did - or who you did - this summer. But you’ve been here for maybe, what, two weeks? I haven’t even gotten the chance to be slaggy yet.”

Archie pauses.

“Wait, it’s been  _ two weeks _ !” he cries. “Two weeks and the slaggiest thing I’ve done is wank a couple out in the shower.”

“Archie,  _ gross _ .”

“You’re damn right about ‘gross.’ I need to get laid. I need to get laid  _ now _ . My calluses are growing calluses.”

Elsea ignores the last bit and opens the heavy, double doors to the owlery.

She should’ve known better than to ask Archie a question about something other than enchanted pot or himself. He doesn’t even know about her minuscule crush on Remus Lupin, or the night patrol, or the slag comment. In fact, she’s sure that if he  _ did _ know about the slag comment, someone might get seriously injured.

“Quaaludes in two days, right?” Elsea asks, although she already knows the answer.

“Shit yeah.” Archie beams at her. “I’m pumped.”

Elsea is about to send Stan a letter asking for more ludes, and, specifically, ask him what sort of symptoms would make them even better. It would take a bit of experimenting to get it just right, so she reckoned she’d need quite a few bottles before she had a product ready for the market.

The owlery is a large, open room. The tall windows illuminate the walls, bringing light into the cages of the hundreds of owls that pass through night and day. The walls are lined with aged, mismatched stone. It’s rustic looking, homie even. However, despite its appearance, it was only really a nice place to be if you a) actually liked owls or b) had lost the ability to smell.

The stench of the place always weirdly reminded Elsea of home. Probably because owl food always stunk up Stan’s bedroom. Elsea never understood why he insisted on keeping it all in there, perhaps there were some hallucinogenic properties of Owl Chow she was unaware of. She’d have to look into that, another time.

Archie lets out a loud whistle. “Elsea’s owl?” he calls. “What’s your owl’s name again?”

“Eugene,” Elsea says, then quickly adds, “don’t ask.” 

Archie gives her a strange look anyway. “Okay?”

She shrugs and spots Eugene off to the side of the wall. She carefully avoids the owl poo, tiptoeing around in her new brown leather ankle boots, which she would rather die than ruin. Archie trudges in after her, not caring if he ruined his Quidditch trainers. They were already covered in mud and grass, after all.

“What did you do last night?” Elsea asks randomly, as she reaches Eugene and pulls a treat from her pocket. Eugene, a medium sized tawny owl, chirps enthusiastically and takes the treat from her hand. She begins to stroke his head softly as Archie dives into an in-depth explanation of his Friday evening.

“Well,” he clears his throat, “you know, that’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Elsea shoots him a nervous look. “Whenever you have to “talk to me about something” it usually involves--”

“--yeah...uh...Maddox’s sales are down.”

She narrows her eyes. “ _ How far down _ ?”

“The only person Maddox has sold to all week is Pettigrew, and he managed to overcharge him because, you know, Pettigrew is an idiot, and yeah.”

“What about the others?” Elsea has stopped petting Eugene and is facing Archie with an angry, nearly murderous look on her face. She can’t possibly imagine her product going down the drain in a matter of weeks. The start of term was wild for business, and people were practically staking out her door for some of her enchanted marijuana, which was why she’d raised prices. She’d done the math; she should still be fine. People should still be wanting her product.

Maddox is supposed to be her rock, if he starts falling out of line, she doesn’t know what the others might be doing.

“They’re undercharging.”

“They’re doing  _ what _ ?” Elsea’s seeing red. She steps forward and presses her hands against Archie’s chest, shoving him backward. There’s a look of sheer panic on his face before he stumbles backward, tripping on a stack of hay, and falls onto his bum.

“What the  _ fuck _ , Els?” Archie roars, face a bright shade of pink underneath all that dirt and sweat. Elsea realizes she might have targeted her anger at the wrong person, but due to her crippling pride, pretends not to have noticed. She spins around and stalks towards the other side of the owlery, then paces back and forth.

“If those arseholes think they can lower  _ my _ prices - well, they’ve got another thing coming.”

Archie is rubbing his bum. “You pushed me.”

“I’m gonna rip out Xavier’s jugular with my teeth! I bet he’s the one behind all of this. You could see it in his eyes that he’s got no loyalty.”

“Elsea, I have owl shit in my hair.”

“Will you shut up?” Elsea snaps. “Listen. Sorry, I pushed you, but we have bigger issues than your hair right now. I’m  _ losing _ money.”

Archie scrambles to his feet, staring at Elsea angrily for her lack of sympathy. “Since when were you so frugal? So what, you won’t get as many pumpkin pasties at Hogsmeade next trip.”

Elsea shoots him a warning glare, but Archie remains unphased. She can imagine why; he already laid in an actual bed of animal feces today.

“We need to fix this,” Elsea says, attempting to calm herself. “We need to control our dealers.”

“Or you could just, you know, put the prices back to normal.”

“Uh,  _ no _ ,” Elsea insists. She will die before she lowers those prices. This has to work. She has an algorithm and everything. “That’s not an option. In fact, the next time you insult me by suggesting that stupid, stupid idea, I’m gonna remove you from this operation entirely. I will make sure you do not touch one gram of  _ my product _ while you are on this planet. Understand?”

Archie stares at her in disbelief.

“I’m leaving,” he sighs, his entire chest heaving up and down, “when you’re done acting like a bloody psychopath we can work this out like regular people.”

Elsea folds her arms and says nothing.

“Maybe you can do the ludes with Anya. I’m sure she’d be keen as hell.”

Elsea unfolds her arms.

“Wait,” she protests. Archie turns on his heel, staring at her expectantly. “I’m sorry I pushed you in shit. But you do realize that this is ruining everything, don’t you? I need this money. I need it for more important things than extra pumpkin pasties, believe it or not.”

“What could you possibly need it for?” Archie asks. He’s softening, but Elsea can see he’s still skeptical.

“Well,” she breathes, it’s better if he knows than doesn’t, at this point. Archie is properly clued in about everything else in her life anyway - and it’s the only secret she’s never told anyone before. And it’s not really healthy to live like that, so she’s heard. Archie  _ could _ know. It wouldn’t be the  _ worst _ thing. “I’m sort of paying half of Stan’s taxes.”

“You’re….” Archie trails off, his brow furrowed, “wait, what?”

Of course, she doesn’t fully expect him to  _ understand _ . Does he even know what taxes are? Do wizards do that?

“Stan is a bum, Arch. He can barely afford to keep the heat on in the house during the winter. Paisley has a job but it barely helps. She sells beaded necklaces on the side, but, you know, people can make those themselves. They  _ need _ me.”

Archie nods, but Elsea isn’t sure if he gets it any more than before. How could he? He is practically the face of teenage boy entitlement. He’s probably never had to worry about anything in a financial sense in his life. Elsea wonders if he’s actually ever worried about anything, ever.

“Can’t Stan get a job?” Archie asks timidly. “Doesn’t he deal some himself?”

“It doesn’t cover the cost of living,” Elsea explains. “It’s just the way it is, Archie. He doesn’t even know I pay for him, that’s how secretive this whole thing is. The only people who know are me, Paisley, and now you, I guess.”

Archie looks surprised.

“So don’t tell anyone,” Elsea tells him before he can say anything else, “not even Maddox.”

“Right, I wouldn’t.” Archie coughs, running a hand through his poop-laden hair. “Uh, yeah, so…listen, I’m on your side here, and--”

Elsea stares at him before shaking her head and walking back to Eugene while he trails off. She ties the little letter and small coin purse to his leg and gives him a proper pat before he soars off out the window.

“Let’s go have a snack? Sneak into the kitchens?” Archie offers. “Bloody stinks in here.”

She stares at him. He’s literally covered in shit, actual shit, and mud, grass, and there’s a tiny twig in his hair.

“Get my dealers together, then you can have a shower, yeah?”

Archie nods as they begin to head out of the Owlery. They’re feet away, but a specifically terrible stench follows them.

“Actually,” Elsea says, looking sympathetically at Archie, “take a shower. You have until five to get the dealers in the greenhouse with me.”

She pats his arm. “I’ll bring the snacks.”

 

-.-

“I’ve brought you all here today,” Elsea clamps her hands behind her back and strolls back and forth in front of the pack of Ravenclaws in front of her, “to discuss your insubordination.”

“Insubordination?” Hadley rolls her eyes. “That’s--”

“Don’t speak.” Elsea stops in front of her and quirks an eyebrow. She’s practiced that in the mirror a few hundred times.

It took Archie only an hour to get this ragtag pack of dealers together in the astronomy tower. During that time, Elsea ran over what she wanted to say in her head fifteen minutes, practiced her speech for a cleanly showered Archie, and even had time to run down to the greenhouses for a fresh batch.

“Listen, I’m going to cut the decorum because honestly, I’m pretty damn…  _ hmm _ , what’s the word, Arch?”

“This is an  _ abomination _ !” Archie booms. “You’re bloody furious, that’s what you are.”

“Indeed I am. Lowering prices? What do you think this is? A fucking free for all? I’m trying to run a business, not a fucking fish market. If I wanted to have bartering as a part of my system I would’ve hired four people who are  _ actually _ likable and capable of making a decent deal.”

Maddox is the only one who looks offended. The rest, as they shouldn’t, continue to stare at her defiantly.

Archie steps in.

“We understand that people might be a little less than willing to pay for wizard weed now that it’s no longer dirt cheap, but still. You’re technically salesmen. You have to close deals, deals that carry a significant value. That or we’ll have to cut back on profit. For all of us.”

“Why do you even make profit, Blackwater?” Xavier cuts in, he puts his hand on a pumpkin pasty. “It’s not like you’re doing anything of ‘significant value.’”

Archie opens his mouth, probably to tell him off, but Elsea decides it’s time to step in.

“Xavier,” Elsea says coolly, “put that pasty down.”

“What?” Xavier asks, smiling. Elsea hates him; he has one of the stupidest faces she’s ever seen.

“Do you think I’m fucking you?” Elsea steps closer to him, getting in his face. “Because I’m not fucking you, Xavier. Pumpkin Pasties are for closers.”

She grabs the snack out of his hand and chucks it across the room. Webb flinches.

“You too, Webb,” Elsea warns. Webb drops the half eaten pasty on the ground without an argument. “Now, Archie,  _ please _ continue.”

“Right, uh,” Archie gathers himself, grinning at her, “the minimum price for a gram of anything with the High Roller label is three galleons. Three. Not two, not one and a half, not two in a half. Three galleons. Unless you’re Maddox and you can trick someone into buying for five-”

The room erupts into snickers.

“ _ -Nothing _ changes.” Archie claps his hands together. “Are we all understood?”

“Understood,” Maddox says, cheerily eating a pumpkin pasty.

The other three remain stubborn, glaring at Elsea and Archie like it’s a matter of good versus evil.

“I’m just trying to run a business,” Elsea says, her voice even and professional. She needs to sound her best to butter them up. “I don’t know how many times I have to say it, but that is literally all. I’m trying to make everything better for everyone here. All of us. We sell. We  _ give _ . We bring endless joy and distractions to others. We get to receive a pay for that. Isn’t that brilliant? And the more sold, the more pay. It’s that simple. You’re all smart, you all know that already.”

Webb softens and Hadley starts twirling her hair distractedly.

“Now, are we all understood?” Elsea asks.

Everyone groans. Some of them nod.

“Good.  _ Now _ you can help yourselves to some pasties. I expect results, people!”

 

-.-

 

As the night sky falls along the horizon, banishing the bright sun and chasing the last of the students into the safe doors of the castle, Remus and his friends start the long trek to the Shrieking Shack. He’s particularly anxious tonight; perhaps it’s that it’s his last, first full moon of his career at Hogwarts. Perhaps it’s because of the war raging outside. Or, perhaps it’s just another reminder that soon enough he won’t have the protection of grounds from actually harming another person with his curse.

“My head hurts,” Peter mumbles as they slip out, undetected, from the large oak front doors. “I think that weed was laced with something.”

James snorts. “The High Rollers shit isn’t supposed to give you a headache, mate. I think you’re just weak.”

Peter frowns. “I think it’s a bad batch.”

“I feel great,” Sirius declares, throwing his arm around Peter’s shoulders and grinning excitedly. “I’d do anything to get into that operation. Can you imagine the money I’d make off you, Wormtail?”

Peter glares and shrugs him off. “Whatever man, Maddox is fucking convincing as hell.”

Remus and James share a smirk, but don’t say anything. James quickly grabs Wormtail around the waist and throws him over his shoulder, sprinting quietly down the grounds. They’ve learned to be quiet now, since Dumbledore subtly hinted to them that some students might start suspecting something is up if there are four loud-mouthed boys shouting and galloping down the grounds once a month during the full moon.

Sirius and Remus fall back. The biting feeling in Remus’ stomach deepens. He shoves his hands into his robes and looks around, nervously.

“Is it starting already?” Sirius asks. He has his hands in his pockets, Remus knows he’s holding his wand.

Remus just nods, afraid of triggering something. There’s a long stretch of silence between them, the only sounds coming from the chirping of birds in the forbidden forest. It’s like any other walk to the shack; the darkness looming ahead of him. The other lads might have a bit of fun on these nights, with their playing and running and general shenanigans. But Remus never remembers any of it, just experiences unmatchable and excruciating pain in the mornings when he wakes, naked and a mess in the Shrieking Shack.

“You know it’s gonna be fine,” Sirius says eventually, reading his mind like he often does.

Remus shakes his head. “No, it’s not.”

“It is. There are countless werewolves living amongst us every day. How often do you hear about an attack?”

“The Ministry covers those up. Just how Dumbledore does with all the incidents here.”

Sirius sighs, bumping shoulders with Remus. “Incidents, what incidents? Like that time you ate a bunny and left his skull for the world to see? Pretty bloody harrowing, Moony.”

Remus cracks a slight grin, then frowns. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

His mind flashes to the time he almost killed Snape the year before. It didn’t only almost ruin Remus and Snape’s lives, but James and Sirius’ friendship as well.

“Listen,” Sirius speaks softly, so only Remus can hear. “I don’t know about any other werewolves, but I know about you. And I know that of all of us, you have the most impressive amount of self-control. I’m sure that if I were a werewolf half the student body would be dead and I’d be walking around Knockturn Alley like some sort of criminal. You’re going to be okay, Moony. You’re going to be more than okay. I promise.”

Remus almost wants to tell Sirius that he can’t place a promise on something so ambiguous, but he stays quiet instead. Nothing can make him feel better, but allowing everyone to think so helps, somehow. He nods and continues along the path.

Ahead of them, James has tackled Peter onto the ground and is pretending to punch him in the gut. Peter is laughing obnoxiously loud, so Sirius pulls out his wand and casts a silencing charm on the two of them. Remus laughs, watching as James and Peter attempt to scream at Sirius

Sirius stops suddenly and pulls Remus to face him.“Seriously, Remus,” he says, dark eyes piercing into his own. “You’re going to be alright. I’m here. James is here. Pete’s here. We wouldn’t let anything happen to you or anyone else. You got that?”

Remus nods again. Sirius sighs and leans forward, knocking their foreheads together.

“It’s all of us, yeah, us four until the end of the line.”

A familiar sense of relief washes over Remus. He sighs deeply and says, “Yeah.”

“Good.” Sirius reaches around and smacks Remus’ arse so hard he reckons he’ll have a bruise in the morning. “That’s the spirit, fuckwad!”

Sirius runs forward, jumping off a particularly tall boulder and in the air, shifts gracefully into a large, black dog. Remus, though he’s seen it before, watches mesmerized as his three best mates shift into the three animals that ought to save his life, time and time again.

 


	5. When I'm Sixty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kiddios, don't try this at home.
> 
> All drug facts are from google and The Wolf of Wall Street. Neither of us have actually tried quaaludes nor do we advocate the recreational use of drugs as in this fic. We do advocate for a group sing-along of the Beatles, though. And weed.
> 
> Enjoy!

“On three?” She’s not nervous, she keeps telling herself she’s not nervous, but her hand is shaking so hard her charm bracelet is rattling.

 

Archie looks at her intently. She can read his excitement, his preparedness. It almost makes her feel foolish when she sees how unscathed by this situation he is. How is it that he’s the one immune to fear? Elsea is supposed to be the superior one, superior at everything.

 

“Whenever you’re ready.”

 

“Okay.” Elsea needs to breathe, desperately. “Okay.”

 

She holds up the tiny, yellow, pill she’d magically charmed back in the greenhouses the night before. She had been up all night, reading a textbook Archie snagged from the restricted section on magical drugs and magical overdoses. This little capsule and the one in Archie’s palm, are her attempt at such.

 

“One.”

 

Archie knocks it back and starts chugging his glass of water. Elsea puts the pill on the table, hiding it under her plate.

 

“Archie I said on the _three_ ,” she scolds, looking around to make sure no one has noticed anything odd. It’s not necessarily strange to be taking morning pills at Hogwarts. It’s just something that’s usually done in the infirmary, or in lavatories. Not at the breakfast table in the Great Hall. That, for some reason, is indecent. “What makes you think that one, two, three translates to doing anything on the one?”

 

Sheepishly, Archie shrugs his shoulders. “You were making me _nervous_ , okay?” he admits, his eye twitching. Elsea hopes that it’s a genuinely nervous twitch and not something that is caused by using the Quaaludes. That would be too conspicuous and uncomfortable for her liking. “Why don’t you take the bloody thing already? I don’t want to be alone in this.”

 

“I will,” Elsea snaps, slowly pulling the pill out from beneath the plate. “It’s just, I don’t want to wash it down with pumpkin juice, is all.”

 

Archie looks at her, expression void. “You liar. You’re scared to do the ludes!”

 

“Shut up! Shut up! You’re so loud,” Elsea bites back. They receive a few looks from some neighboring Ravenclaws. “See? They’re looking now.”

 

“That was because you started screaming, Elsea The Big Fat Chicken Holmes.”

 

Elsea narrows her eyes. “I’m not chicken, and I’m not _fat_ you bastard.”

 

Reclining, and folding his arms, Archie smirks.

 

“Pathetic.”

 

“You must be high already if you think I’m a pathetic fat chicken. Are you hallucinating?”

 

“Chicken.”

 

“Shut up. You’re like a first year - it’s embarrassing.”

 

“Take the pill you motherfucking chi-”

 

“—Hello loves!”

 

 _Shit_. Elsea closes her fist around the pill, concealing it from view.

 

“Anya, hey! Hey girl,” Elsea sings. She’s aware she’s acting weird, but she can’t help it. Archie just took a quaalude, she has one resting in her sweaty palm, and Anya the Angel Darzi is right across from her. It couldn’t possibly get more risky.

 

“Hi,” Anya says again, giving her a skeptical look and sitting next to Archie. “You lot up early for a reason?”

 

Archie shakes his head, his eyelids are drooping slightly now.

 

“Clearly you’re exhausted,” Anya chirps, putting her hand on Archie’s slightly limp shoulder. This is not good. “You should have some coffee, Arch. You look ready to slip into a coma.”

 

He mumbles something incoherent.

 

Oh no.

 

“Archie? Are you okay?”

 

Elsea, with Anya’s attention completely diverted from her, decides that it’s a now or never situation. A dire one. She pops the pill dry and begins to choke.

 

“Water, fuck!” she sputters as Anya quickly pushes a random glass across the table. It’s full of pumpkin juice, but it’ll have to suffice. Archie is staring at her shamelessly, a dazed smile fixed on his face. Elsea has never seen him look at her that way, so distant, like Archie Blackwater isn’t even really there. The ludes must be really working, then.

 

“What is up with you guys?” Anya asks. “This one looks like he’s under a sleeping charm and you can’t keep your food down.”

 

And then she laughs. Clueless.

 

“Maybe you should both go back to bed.”

 

Elsea perks up. What a great suggestion. “That’s a great suggestion, thanks Anya.” Elsea leaps from her seat and scurries around the table to Archie’s side. Everything seems to be working regularly at the moment. Mobile functions are fine. Cognitive functions, sharp as ever. Everything is okay.

 

She yanks Archie by the arm. It flings towards her like an overcooked noodle.

 

“What was that?”Anya giggles.

 

Archie, who has been dangerously quiet for the past five minutes, smiles and nods at her. “Practicing my dance moves,” he says, slowly, “thinking about starting a club.”

 

“Okay,” Elsea cuts in, before anyone can say anything more stupid. She’s paranoid, so what? “Okay, we’re going to take a nice long nap. Enjoy your breakfast, Anya. The eggs are fantastic with the wheat toast. Ugh, what a fine morning? I’ll see you in potions!”

 

She lugs Archie up. He stands on his own two feet, but barely.

 

Anya glares at the two of the suspiciously. “Are you guys kidding me?”

 

Archie grips weakly at Elsea’s elbow as she feels her heart drop into her stomach. She can’t know. There’s no way of her _knowing_. That’s not possible.

 

“You’re already high?” she asks, standing up. “You did a wake and bake.”

 

The relief that washes over Elsea tastes so sweet that she’s sure she’ll never desire touching another pumpkin pasty again.  

 

“We did,” Archie nearly gargles, “and the weed was dank, Any, you’d have loved it.”

 

 _Any_. Archie has never called her anything remotely similar to that before. Elsea knows it’s because he’s suddenly, majorly fucked up, but Anya doesn’t. She’s going presume things now; _Any_ is going to be the new driving force in her never-ending journey to be with Archie Blackwater. Goddamn ludes.

 

“I doubt that,” Anya says, blushing and fumbling with her hands. “I really, really doubt that…”

 

She trails off, lost in thought. Elsea can't help but feel astonished by how easy that was.

 

Then, she feels something hit her lightly, like a tap, somewhere deep in her head -- right between the eyes. Things are so soft. Archie feels soft. Anya’s skin is gold and glowing and Elsea is _jealous_ that she’s never going to get a tan like that. There's a buzz in the air, a low, melodic hum - it makes her want to sing. And dance, too, in an open field.

 

Uh oh.

 

“Gotta go,” Elsea sputters, she pulls Archie along as she runs them out of the Great Hall. The food smells so great, all of a sudden. Bacon, country ham, French toast, _pancakes_ \-- she’s really got to get the fuck out of there.

 

“Elsea I’m fucked up.” Archie whispers, leaning against the wall of the corridor. He sinks to the ground. “My legs feel like those little sea creatures with tentacles.”

 

“Squids?” Elsea asks, pulling hopelessly at Archie’s hand. They have to go back to the common room before it got worse -- or better, Elsea is honestly not sure yet.

 

“Not squids.” Archie whines, eyes closed. Then he giggles. “Funny word though, isn’t it? Squids. Squah-id. Rolls off the tongue. Say it yourself. Squid.”

 

Elsea tightens her lips, strangely tempted to try out saying the word squid. What has happened to her?

 

“Squiiiiiid,” Archie says dreamily. “Squiiiiid. The tip of the tongue, the teeth, and the lips.”

 

“No, Archie, we gotta go.” Elsea pulls at him, he stumbles forward, leaning against her in a way she would never, ever, want him to again.

 

“Hey,” Archie mumbles, “you smell _pretty_.”

 

“Do I?” Elsea sputters. He’s heavy, for someone who appears more wiry than buff. It must be his ego, Elsea decides. And then she laughs out loud at her own joke.

 

“Shit,” She says, closing her mouth quickly, “God, fuck. This isn’t good. Where are we?”

 

“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I never noticed how sexy you look when you’re blonde.”

 

“Shut up Archie, I’m always blonde.”

 

Stan’s letter, that arrived conveniently quick at post that morning, said when he was on the ludes, he usually felt extra relaxed and even more -- Elsea gasps. Stan said he and Paisley loved to fuck on ludes.

 

And that was just regular, non-magical ones.

 

Had she created the latest sexual stimulant? With her and Archie as the only two test subjects? Disgusting. Elsea would shiver if she had more control of her limbs.

 

“How about we lay on the grass?” Archie asks, pointing the grounds. It’s not crowded, but there are a fair amount of people sprawled about. Enough so it wouldn’t look weird if him and Elsea were to collapse there for a while.

 

“Great idea Archibald,” Elsea says, placing her hand on his chest. She can feel his heart beating, and his chest is warm - _no_. She pulls herself away from him quickly and stumbles out the door. It’s harder to walk when she isn’t sharing her body weight.

 

“Wait, Elsea, I can’t be without you, baby.” Archie follows behind her closely, collapsing next to her on a warm patch of grass.

 

“Good Merlin,” he breathes, “this is fantastic. It’s tickling my skin. Like a bunch of fairies dancing on my arm hair.”

 

Elsea nods her head, staring, dazed at a cloud that looks like a Hippogriff. "That's bloody fruitiest thing I've ever heard in my life."

 

“I’m also horny as fuck, Elsea. Is this supposed to happen?” Archie rolls onto his stomach, placing his face in the grass. “ _Ah_ \- that smells _so fucking good_.”

 

“Chill,” Elsea says. She feels everything he feels, it’s glorious. “Just let it happen.

 

“I’m so…” Archie mumbles into the grass. “Elsea, I’m so hard.”

 

She doesn’t know why it happened so fast, but she’s pretty damn horny too. There’s a heat in her legs that she hasn’t felt in a long time, and she knows her face is the color of Lily Evans’ hair.

 

“Get over it, it’s all in your head,” she tries, closing her eyes and trying to concentrate. They lay there for a while, not speaking, and Elsea feels a sort of euphoric sense wash over her. It’s like if she panics, her high becomes terrible and a nightmare. But upon relaxation, these magical ludes can bring her and Archie to a wonderful, fluffy cloud of happiness.

 

“I can’t just ‘get over it.’ It’s a boner. Boners don’t stay in your head. That’s kind of the point.”

 

“It’s not real.” Elsea feels like Archie is dumb enough to fall for it. But when she opens her eyes, she can see that his boner is, indeed, very real. Too real, actually. “Oh my god,” Elsea cries, “Cover that up _now_. You’ll get kicked out of school if you let that thing hang around you bloody psychopath.”

 

“It’s not my fault, you drugged me!” Archie rolls back onto his stomach. “I’m trying to think about non-sexy things but they keep turning sexy.”

 

“Keep trying,” Elsea says, it’s getting hard not laugh. “Think of Professor Sprout, naked.”

 

“That made it worse!”

 

“Oh my GOD.”

 

“I’m kidding, but it’s not working.” Archie tears up. “Can you get me someone? Or something?”

 

“Something like what? An ax? We can chop it off.”

 

“Elsea what the fuck? I can’t I’m-”

 

“Archie!” Elsea snaps, but she knows her voice sounds more melodic than stern. “Just like, get over yourself. You’ve gotten a hard on in lessons before and survived it. You’re high, not tied down in a prison. Either slink off to the bushes and wank it out or just like, I don’t know, fucking deal with it!”

 

It takes her a lot longer to say than she plans, and by the time she’s done Elsea is starting to feel a little strung out. So she sighs, closes her eyes, and melts against the grass.

 

They’re silent for a while before Archie speaks again.

 

“It went away,” he breathes. He has a thick layer of sweat on his brow. “Thought about that time over the summer when mom made me take muggle classes. You would not believe what Trigonometry is.”

 

Elsea nods her head. She isn’t really keen to find out. “Good, keep thinking about that.”

 

“No, that’s miserable.”

 

“You know what’s miserable?” Elsea realizes she’s slurring a little. “Having to deal with you getting a boner in the middle of campus.”

 

“I guess that’s true.” Archie trails off, he begins to pluck pieces of grass from the ground and tie them together. “I’m gonna make us friendship bracelets.”

 

Elsea giggles. If she weren’t so incredibly fucked up at that moment, she would’ve called him a twat. “Make mine purple.”

 

“I was gonna do yellow,” Archie explains, “like the ludes we just took.”

 

“Cute.” She means it.

 

“You know, it’s not very manly of me to admit this,” Archie says, “but I don’t think I’d ever sleep with you.”

 

Elsea nods her head. Once again, if she weren’t so incredibly fucked up at that moment, she would’ve called him a twat.

 

“It’s only because you’re my best friend and I think it’d get weird.” Archie continues, “Plus, we’re also business partners. So that’s another weird boundary we’d be crossing.”

 

He pauses, dropping his strands of grass.

 

“But you’re still pretty.”

 

Elsea smiles. “Thanks, I think you’re a cutie.” She pats him on the head. They smile at each other fondly before a long, dark shadow casts over them.

 

“Ah! Troll!” Archie screams.

 

“I’m _not_ a bloody troll!” Anya screams, and Elsea would feel a little more terrified, if, once again, she had the ability to move the muscles in her face. “I can’t believe you two! What did you do, eat a pile of marijuana?”

 

Elsea attempts to shake her head. “I mean-- _nah.”_

 

“I was on my way back from charms, by the way, you missed two lessons this morning. It’s lunch time. There’s an entire pack of Hufflepuffs just watching you roll around in the grass, laughing.”

 

Elsea scrunches her brow together, well, sort of. She thought they’d only been out there a few minutes. They’d been out there nearly three hours? “Really?” she moans.

 

“Yes, really, you bloody nightmares. Archie what the hell are you doing with that?”

 

Archie peers up at her innocently. “I’m making friendship bracelets.”

 

Anya kneels down to their level, and then sits cross legged on the ground. She stares at Archie deeply, her eye contact unwavering. Elsea genuinely fears for him, the poor guy is just making some grass bracelets, after all. Anya shakes her head.

 

“You tell me what you’re really up to right now,” Anya insists. She’s really close to Archie’s face, Elsea can’t help but wonder where she got the confidence to do that suddenly.

 

Archie looks at Elsea for help, she squeezes a chunk of grass, hard. She knows now that Anya won’t believe her if she tells her they just smoked a bit of weed. They’re too fucked up for that, and even Anya, who has smoked with them once or twice, knows their typical symptoms.

 

It’s a risk, but she’s too fucked up to think it through, so she says. “New product. High Roller sold it to us.”

 

Anya looks furious.

 

“What’s the product called, exactly?”

 

“Fun pills,” Archie lies, poorly.

 

“Quaaludes,” Elsea tells her, tipping her head to the side. “But they’re the enchanted type.”

 

“Yes, oh so enchanting.” Archie exclaims. Then he holds out a long knotted bracelet to Anya. “Can you tie this around my wrist? It’s not going.”

 

Anya sighs, taking the bracelet. “I can’t believe you guys would do something so stupid,” she scolds, shaking her head. “These are drugs, not candy. You can’t just go putting these things in your body like it’s no big deal. Quaaludes are serious.”

 

She angrily ties a knot around Archie’s wrist. “You happy?” Anya snaps, looking more at Elsea than Archie, of course. “You’ve really messed up.”

 

Elsea blinks, her eyelids feel heavier than ever. “Listen,” the words leaving her mouth feel like a delayed reaction, but she keeps going, “I love you, Anya, but you gotta let us have some fun every once in a while.”

 

“ _Let you have some fun?_ ” Anya is yelling now, she drops Archie’s wrist to the ground. All of her movements seem to be in slow motion to Elsea. The drug must be at its peak affliction. “Elsea I—you’re—I—“

 

“Hey, Anya,” Archie says dreamily. “You’re pretty when you’re angry. Like a beautiful peeved flower.”

 

All of the color drains from her face. Elsea watches in anticipation.

 

“I-- _quiet_ Archie.” It is clear Anya is having trouble staying angry. If she could blush, Anya would be all different shades of red by now. “Elsea, I just want you to be safe. You don’t have to go trying crazy drugs to have fun.”

 

Elsea’s eyes nearly roll back into her head as she stares up at Anya.

 

Anya sighs. “Alright. Uh, I’m going to go bring Archie back to the dorms. You stay here, and just, pretending you’re sleeping, yeah? I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Take a nap, Els.”

 

Elsea nods and only briefly watches Anya tug Archie up by his armpits and drag him through the grass until she realizes that she’s a witch, and pulls her wand up to magically drag him behind her. Elsea smiles, then rolls over into the grass and falls asleep to the sounds of Archie complementing Anya as she leads him away.

 

 

-.-

 

 

“You think she’s dead?” Peter asks. He looks terribly concerned for someone who had been saying, not moments ago, that he didn’t care much for patients in the hospital wing. “They have it easy,” he said with a dismissive shrug, “they don’t have to take McGonagall’s exams.” Even when Remus protested that they didn’t choose to spend all day in the hospital wing (which he had, and was only just released), Peter didn’t budge.

 

Remus stares worriedly at the lifeless body of a tall, thin blonde girl, lying face first in the grass. He thinks she might look familiar, but then again, he has been at this school for seven years now. He’s sure he’s seen just nearly every face twice about now.

 

“Nah,” Remus replies, “just sleeping, I think.”

 

“Do you think we ought to check up on her?” Peter tugs nervously at the collar of his white button-up shirt. His tie hangs loosened around his ever-growing neck. He’s put on quite a bit of weight in the last couple of years and is no longer the scrawny, mousy boy he once was. “Looks like it might rain.”

 

From the safety of the castle, Remus glances up at the approaching gray sky. It is most definitely going to rain.

 

He sighs, nods, and drops his bag onto the ground. “You stay here. I’ll get her.”

 

Peter just nods and steps closer to Remus’ bag. He’d met Remus outside the doors of the Hospital Wing, and they had been on their way to the library, where Remus was going to tutor Peter on some basic herbology. Peter has been struggling to grasp the subject since first year.

 

“Hey,” Remus whispers. He pokes at the girl's side with his wand, to be safe. You never know what you’ll come across at a school like this. “Hey, you okay?”

 

The girl groans and swats at him with her hand, but other than that, she doesn’t move.

 

“It’s going to rain,” Remus warns, “you don’t want to be stuck out in the rain, do you?”

 

“Go _away_ Anya, I don’t want to speak to you right now.” The girl speaks directly into the ground, Remus can barely understand her. Her left wrist flops pathetically in the grass.

 

“Who the hell is Anya?” he asks, mostly himself, before deciding he should maybe be more authoritative.

 

“Anya was my best friend before she was a _huge bitch_ , that’s who Anya is.” The girl rolls on her side, facing away from Remus. He knows her voice, he’s sure he’s met this girl at some point. Maybe they had classes together, or something. Her voice is a tad deeper than most girls, and a bit raspy. It’s easily distinguishable. A voice of someone who clearly spends quite a bit of time smoking.

 

“Well uh,” he’s not exactly sure what to say to that, “we should go inside, it’s--”

 

“--Remus Lupin!” She turns around suddenly, eyes wild. “You!”

 

Remus tries to mask his expression of shock, but fails, miserably. In fact, he gasps. He was sure he’d been seeing Elsea again, sometime soon, before patrols. And he has a lot to say to her, sort of. Maybe not a lot, maybe just “sorry for calling you a slag.” But still, the words are meaningful.

 

He just didn’t think he’d see her soon, and like _this_.

 

“Hello,” Remus croaks, trying to find his footing again. “I-- uh, what’s going on here?”

 

Elsea stares at him blankly, her eyes are not only bloodshot, but her pupils are massively dilated. Something is definitely wrong. He feels a bit nervous for her. Just about everyone knows Elsea is one of the most likely people to be high during the afternoon, but he Remus didn’t anticipate that she’d be the type to take _actual_ drugs. Especially during _lessons_.

 

“I’m taking a nap,” Elsea explains dreamily. “Archie was here but he left. So you missed me being a huge slag.”

 

It feels like a bit of a slap in the face, but he knows he deserves it.

 

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” He says, running his hand through his hair sheepishly. “That was a stupid thing to say and you were right, I’m a dick.”

 

Elsea doesn’t speak, so Remus continues.

 

“Huge, pulsating dick, actually. Like you said. Worse too, I’m a twat. Tosser, even. Wanker, some might say.”

 

“Some might say that,” Elsea agrees quietly, nibbling on her lip like a child. Her big, brown eyes shift to stare up at him. “Those people might be wrong.”

 

A sense of relief washes over him, and he opens his mouth to speak.

 

“But,” she cuts him off, smirking proudly and nearly flopping back onto her stomach, “those people might also be right.”

 

His mouth hangs open only briefly before he forces a smile and shifts down to her level. “Yeah, so, as I was saying… uh… sorry.”

 

“You said that already, I think.” Elsea looks like she might pass out at any moment.

 

“I was reiterating my point. Showing how sorry I am.”

 

“Ah,” She clicks her tongue against her teeth and smiles goofily, “point made.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Excellent.”

 

A drop of rain falls on the tip of Elsea’s nose.

 

“What the fuck?” she shouts. “Did you just _spit_ on me?”

 

“What? _No_!” Remus restrains himself from laughing. “I told you it was going to rain.”

 

“Oh,” Elsea says sadly, “but I don’t want it to.”

 

“Bummer, I guess.”

 

Remus stands and offers her his hand. She stares up at him from the ground and groans. “I don’t know how good I’ll be at standing,” she warns, staring at his hand, “you _might_ have to carry me.”

 

“Nice try. I’ll just use a lifting charm.”

 

“Boo. You’re no fun.”

 

“You’re not the first woman to tell me that,” he jokes as she puts her hand in his. They fit together nicely, he notices, with her long slender fingers covered in a variety of silver rings.  Around her thin wrist is an expensive looking charm bracelet, and a particularly shiny charm stands out as he yanks her to her feet.

 

“Is that a crown?” he asks, holding her wrist in front of him face and examining the charm.

 

Elsea yanks her arm out of his grasp instantly. Her face grows hot and Remus stumbles backward, concerned he did something wrong. Suddenly, Elsea is laughing, loudly and lazily, as she says, “Oh? Ha, yeah. Archie gave it to me. A gift. Not a like, anniversary gift or anything. We’re not together. That’s literally the nastiest thing I could possibly think of, really.”

 

Remus nods, still embarrassed, and sees Peter is still standing there waiting for him.

 

“Peter Pettigrew,” Elsea says suddenly. Remus assumes she must've seen him too. “Nice guy, right?”

 

Remus nods, “Sure?”

 

“Why do you call him Wormy?” She asks, stumbling into Remus’ side. He grabs her by the waist and she smirks. “Does it have to do with his… you know...”

 

“No,” Remus answers quickly. “What kind of friends do you think I have?”

 

“I dunno,” Elsea rocks back and forth a bit, tipping her head against Remus’ shoulder. “There are a lot of rumors about you guys. You’re all really close and kind of campy too. I once saw Sirius and James wrestling in the grass and it looked very… questionable. I reckon I’ve seen James kiss your nose in charms once.”

 

“What are you on?” Remus asks, scoffing because she’s not really off. “Are you day drinking?”

 

“Day drinking?” Elsea giggles. “Funny.”

 

“But really. What is, erm,… _this_?”

 

Peter walks over to them before she can answer.

 

“Oh, you know each other?” Peter asks. He’s eyeing Elsea intensely; Remus isn’t sure if it’s because she’s attractive and intimately wrapped around Remus’ torso, or because she’s belligerently drunk and/or high. Either way, she’s a fit girl who appears incredibly strung out. Peter is typically terrified of those two things.

 

“Yeah sort of,” Remus says. Elsea looks at him with her mouth ajar, insulted. “We do rounds together.”

 

“Oh!” Peter exclaims, and then he mouths in an obnoxiously inconspicuous way, “is this Elsea Holmes?”

 

Before Remus can answer, Elsea throws out her hand for a shake.

 

“Yes, it is Elsea Holmes. Nice to meet you, Wormdick. I mean Wormtail. I mean Peter - _fuck_.”

 

She recoils her arm before Peter can even contemplate a word she said.

 

“She’s on something,” Remus explains. He runs a hand across her shoulder subconsciously and feels her shiver. Christ. “I don’t know what is is but she’s a little fucked up, as you can see.”

 

“I am,” Elsea admits, finally. “I’m actually on Quaaludes.”

 

Remus nearly drops her. Somehow, he knew exactly what those were. Probably from living in the muggle world and going to the pharmacy with his Mum every once in a while. But he knew of them, and he knew they were serious.

 

“What’s that?” asks Peter, he’s looking at her with greater interest now. “Where can I get some?” he adds, eagerly. Remus feels the need to play some serious damage control.

 

“Don’t condone this, she’s a right mess.” Remus snaps at Peter and begins storming him and Elsea down the hall. “Ravenclaw common room, where is that again?”

 

“I dunno,” Peter is practically sprinting to keep up with them, “I don’t have the map on me.”

 

“Well, where the hell is it?”

 

“What map?” Elsea chimes in.

 

“The map for the treasure,” Peter jokes.

 

Elsea looks enticed. “ _Treasure_?”

 

“No treasure,” Remus cuts in, glaring at Peter, “just a plain old map of the school. Do you know who has it?”

 

“Maybe Prongsie? He was snogging Lily last night in the astronomy tower,” Peter says nonchalantly. At the strange look Remus gives him, he adds, “Padfoot and I were sneaking to the kitchens, I _happened_ to see.”

 

“Nice, keep that to yourself.” Remus says, rolling his eyes, “So we’ll be going to the Gryffindor common room then?”

 

“Sounds good to me.” Peter nods.

 

Elsea squeals with excitement. “I’ve never been in the Gryffindor common room before! This is so cool.”

 

She grabs Remus’ hand, which was dangling protectively over her shoulder. It’s his first instinct to pull away, but he’s genuinely afraid she’ll fall flat on her face at any sudden movements, so he lets her latch onto his fingers.

 

And he kind of doesn’t mind it much, either. It takes them nearly fifteen minutes to get Elsea and her unusually heavy schoolbag up to the Gryffindor tower. Remus can’t help but think, while she’s being a massive pain in his arse, she’s pretty damn funny. She’s put Peter at ease, too, he thinks, that might just be because she’s fit and he reckons she won’t remember him later.

 

Either way, he’s enjoying her company. That is, when he doesn’t think she’ll get them in insurmountable trouble.

 

“Sirius Black sucks dragon balls,” Remus says nonchalantly to the Fat Lady. They’re outside the portrait now. Peter is leaning over on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

 

Elsea’s eyes widen in shock. “Pardon?”

 

The door swings open. Elsea blinks before breaking into a fit of laughter.

 

“That’s it?” She’s laughing uncontrollably, Remus can only watch as he leads her in. “That’s how you get into your shitty little common room? That was _bullshit_.”

 

She walks across the room, or rather stumbles, all on her own to the nearby couch. Remus is more than relieved to find that the room is empty. The seventh years have a free period now, and he’s pleased to know none of the rowdy younger students have decided to skive off their lessons.

 

“It’s so easy to get in here, _too_ easy.” Elsea says, her face pressed into a pillow. Peter takes a seat in the nearby armchair as Remus moves her feet out of the way so he can take a seat on the couch. “You’re lucky you’re the brave tosser house, you probably have the nerve to defend yourselves. Idiots.” Quietly, she adds, “I love it.”

 

“Yeah,” Remus nods, “you can thank James for that stupid password. Wanker.”

 

“Potter? The one I played tonsil quidditch with in year five?” Elsea asks, stretching her arms out and kicking off her brown, leather boots, revealing a pair of light blue socks with white polka-dots. She flips onto her back, holding a pillow to her chest. It's adorable, she looks like a little bug. Remus detests it. “Head Boy?”

 

“Yep,” Peter answers quickly, trying to get in on the conversation.

 

Remus is too stuck on her grotesque use of the term “tonsil quidditch” to even carry on.

 

“How the bloody hell did he get Head Boy, by the way?” Elsea asks lazily. She’s flopping around on the sofa now, and her head falls onto Remus’ shoulder. “Isn’t he fucking, I don’t know, stupid as hell?”

 

Remus snorts. “I dunno, to be honest.”

 

“Good Merlin, it’s warm in here,” Elsea declares, moving past their last conversation. She’s fidgeting. “Are you lads warm? I’m positively sweating.”

 

She then starts pulling off her robes, and suddenly she’s sitting next to him in just her short little black skirt and gray jumper, along with those black tights and funky socks.

 

She starts to pull off her jumper too but Remus puts a hand on her arm. “Uh, don’t do that.”

 

“It’s _hot_ , _Remus_ ,” she whines, and suddenly he remembers that she is high on quaaludes and not just a really eccentric person. “Don’t worry. I’m wearing an undershirt.”

 

Remus sighs, relieved. However, Peter looks slightly disappointed.

 

“Would it be that bad, though? If I was just not wearing a top?” Elsea ponders enthusiastically, tossing the sweater on the ground. Remus is relieved to find that she wasn’t lying. “You’ve both seen tits before, I assume.”

 

Peter nods eagerly. “Yeah, duh. A lot of tits. Buckets full.”

 

“Cool it, Pete,” Remus warns, then he feels Elsea’s feet resting on his lap. “What are you doing?”

 

“Resting,” she shuts her eyes, “you make a great ottoman, Remus.”

 

“Okay?”

 

Conversation lulls as Peter pulls his coursework from his bag and Elsea stares, unblinkingly, at the ceiling. No one really speaks. Remus watches the fire crackle over his mate’s head, he wonders who lit it, and he also wonders if Elsea will ever stop wiggling her toes. It’s doing a number on his potential pants situation.

 

She begins to hum a song. It sounds familiar, but Remus can’t really place it until Peter starts tapping his pen along to the beat.

 

“ _When I get older, losing my hair_ ,” Elsea sings in a broken, admittedly hideous voice, “ _many years from now_.”

 

Peter taps deliberately, looking up gleefully at Elsea as she cracks one eye open. “ _Will you still be sending a valentine? Birthday greetings? Bottle of wine?_ ”

 

Remus groans internally. “At least pick a good Beatles song, if you’re going to do that at all.”

 

“ _If I’ve been out to a quarter to three, would you lock the door_?” Peter chimes in, still tapping. He looks so childish, giddily slamming a quill against the armchair and shimmying around. Remus rolls his eyes.

 

“ _Will you still need me_?” Elsea belts the question at Peter, smiling so widely that Remus can nearly see her back teeth.

 

“ _Will you still feed me_?” Peter counters back, pointing his pen at Elsea.

 

“You guys are such fucking--”

 

“-- _when I’m sixty-four_!” They start giggling with Peter still keeping a beat.

 

Elsea slides up to her elbows then, leaning forward towards Remus with her hands in her lap. Her top is almost see-through, he can see the pink detailing in her bra -- _stop_. Remus looks away.

 

“Remus,” she sings, “ _can you be handy? Lending a fuse? When my lights have gone_?”

 

“It’s mending a fuse,” Remus corrects. Elsea looks hurt, her droopy bloodshot eyes frowning at him dramatically. The guilt hits Remus embarrassingly hard. “ _You can knit a sweater by the fireside._ ” He can’t believe he’s singing, even it sounds more like monotonous speaking, he still can’t believe it. “ _Sunday morning, go for a ride..._ ”

 

“Remus!” Elsea nearly shrieks. Peter is laughing so hard he’s hiccupping. “That was beautiful.”

 

“Sod off,” he mutters, attempting to remain grumpy.

 

“You’re so talented.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Luckily, his blush is hidden by the portrait hole swinging open and the booming laughter of James and Sirius fills the common room. Peter’s grin grows even larger as their eyes fall onto the group sitting around the fire.

 

Both James and Sirius’ eyes light up when they spot Elsea.

 

“What is this?” James walks to the front of the couch, looking expectantly at Remus, then Elsea’s feet, then Elsea’s face. “A guest from the Ravenclaw house?”

 

“A guest I am indeed,” Elsea says sweetly. “Long time no see, Potter.”

 

Sirius snorts into his hand. James just grins at her. “Cheers, Holmes.”

 

“Hi, how are you?” Sirius hip checks James out of the way and extends his hand to Elsea. “Sirius Black, at your service.”

 

“I believe you mean, how high are you?” Elsea blurts. And then she looks down at Remus, confused. “Wait I did that wrong.”

 

“Yeah Sirius was supposed to ask you ‘how high are you,’ then you go in with the ‘I believe you mean, hi how are you,’” Remus says, grinning. “You got that from Jason.”

 

“Maybe.” Elsea shrugs. “Sirius Black, ask me that question again so I can get it right.”

 

Sirius smiles and nods at her, then looks at Remus. “Okay. What’s she on?”

 

“Quaaludes,” Remus, Elsea, and Peter chime in together.

 

“Magical ones,” Peter adds, “she got them from the High Roller. I think.”

 

“The High Roller!” Sirius says in the same tone someone would say ‘drats!’ if it were an episode of _I Love Lucy_. “Thwarted! Again! Tell me, how did you attain such drugs... who is your source?”

 

Elsea blinks tiredly. “The High Roller.”

 

“Yes I know, but, it’s not a direct link, right? Who’s your dealer?”

 

Elsea yawns. Remus decides that watching Sirius try and weasel information out of a drugged Elsea Holmes is the most entertaining thing he’s seen in years.

 

“Maddox,” Elsea says, “we’re tight.”

 

“Maddox!” Sirius shouts, then he looks hopefully at Peter. “You see that? It’s got to be him, or a close friend. We know who ever it is probably is a Ravenclaw too, now, with that exclusive access that Elsea has just gotten… _yes_ … only someone in the house would get such a perk.”

 

Peter nods his head. The rest of the room is quiet until Elsea rolls onto her side and mutters, “Great deduction.”

 

“She’s gone down in a heap,” James clucks, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the sleepy Elsea Holmes. “Someone ought to, you know, bring her back to her room.” His eyes dart at Remus.

 

Sirius opens his mouth, ready to offer, but Remus feels a strange sense of protectiveness over her. So he sighs, nods, and says, “I’ll bring her back. Pete, care to help?”

 

“Of course.” Peter jumps at the chance, leaping from his armchair. His books fall to the ground. “We can harmonize on the way.”

 

Remus and Elsea both laugh. The other two stare cluelessly.

 

“Well okay,” James says. He’s never took well to being left out. “Here’s the map,” he hands it to Remus warily, eyeing him as he helps Elsea off the couch, “have a _nice_ time, friends.”

 

Remus looks at him dismissively, wrapping his arm around Elsea’s waist to steady her. “We will.” 

 

“Yeah. We’ll have a really nice time, Potter,” Elsea pats James’ chest as they walk past, “thanks!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what to do!


	6. Take It Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No.” Anya glares at him, rerolling the poster before they could speak again. “You know very well I’m talking about the High Roller and his - or her, could be a girl - affinity to the destruction of the sanctity of the Hogwart’s youth.”

Elsea has always thought there was an art to selecting a good study spot in the Hogwarts library. The massively expansive library, with its countless rows of dusty old books on exciting topics like dragons and forbidden spells, and dull ones such as the Goblin Wars, is the busiest place to be in the castle on this particularly rainy, impossibly dreary Wednesday evening. Thus, Elsea chose her spot wisely: a small, old wooden table in the Herbological section, which has three rickety chairs and about zero foot traffic.

 

The second problem she faced, however, upon arriving at the library two hours ago with the daunting task of writing a pop potions essay, is the fact that Archie decided to join her. And Archie, though dear to her heart, has the attention span of a newborn pixie.

 

“Okay, so you’re telling me that a Giant can take on a Hungarian Horntail with zero weapons and _win_?” Archie asks, rhetorically, of course. Elsea doesn’t remember ever saying such a thing, so she ignores him and continues to write her essay. 

 

“Because, frankly, I think that’s absurd,” he continues, regardless of any response. “The giant would at least need a bat. Or some nunchucks.”

 

“Huh,” Elsea nods, “definitely.”

 

“Electric nunchucks.”

 

“Yep.”

 

Archie frowns. “You’re not even listening to me, are you?”

 

Elsea puts her pen down, rolling her eyes before unrolling her parchment a bit further. It’s going to be a long evening.

 

“Elsea?”

 

“Nope,” she says, sparing him a single, angry glare, “not even slightly.”

 

At that moment, Anya stumbles into the room, dropping at least six large rolls of expensive looking parchment paper on the table. One knocks over Archie’s inkwell, spilling all over a page of his pointless doodles.

 

“What gives Anya?” he asks angrily. “You got ink all over my work.”

 

“Please, I see what you have there,” Anya says, unapologetic as she gathers her papers. “Is that a naked merwoman?”

 

Elsea reaches forward and snatches the parchment. “Bloody hell Arch, no woman’s breasts are _that_ big.”

 

“Should be,” Archie grumbles.

 

“You’re the reason young girls have such unrealistic expectations for their bodies,” Anya chirps, settling into the last chair and pushing her messy hair out of her eyes.

 

“Ugh,” he groans, “don’t get started on that bullshit.”

 

“It’s not bullshit,” Anya argues, “it’s the facts of life.”

 

“Pretty sure that’s a muggle TV show, Anya.”

 

“It’s _not_.”

 

Anya and Elsea share an awkward glance. They haven’t really spoken since the ludes incident two days prior. They’ve had nothing but careful interactions in which no one says much, a lot of tiptoeing around each other and speaking without eye contact. Elsea reckons it’s because Anya blames her for Archie’s inebriated state. That or her self-righteous personality - it was a wonder that girl got sorted into Ravenclaw.

 

Not that any of this mattered, anyway. Elsea’s pride is too strong to apologize, or to admit that Anya was making some sense when she critiqued their recreational drug use. What was wrong with a little fun once in a while? If there are a couple of stilted conversations in class for the past week, so be it.

 

But as the lessons went on, Elsea realized how much she depended on Anya, for entertainment, help in her classes. Anya was far smarter than Elsea gave her credit for, and she quickly realized that she relied on Anya in many different lessons for her input on spells, potions, and other basic facts. Without Anya, Elsea was, in fact, lost.

 

“She’s right, Arch,” Elsea says, crumpling up his ‘doodle’. “Good job sending the women’s rights movement back another twenty or so years.”

 

Archie frowns, staring at his paper with despair. “Fine. Sorry. Whatever.”

 

Elsea shrugs and gets back to her paper. Anya puts a comforting hand on Archie’s shoulder. “We forgive you.”

 

“What are those anyway?” Archie asks, picking up one of Anya’s rolls of parchment. “Oooh, these feel serious.”

 

“Because they _are_ serious,” Anya says, she’s grinning at the both of them. “In fact, they’re quite revolutionary, if I do say so myself.”

 

“Are they?” Archie asks skeptically. Elsea wishes she had the balls to join him on the forefront. But instead, she continues to write her second body paragraph. “Please, Anya, elaborate.”

 

 _Yes, please_. Elsea thinks, tapping her pen listlessly against her paper.

 

“Well,” Anya says, grabbing one of the many rolls and untying it, “you’re probably not going to like it very much. But I decided I don’t care. It’s for the good of you.” She pauses, looking directly at Elsea. “ _Both_ of you.”

 

Elsea takes this as her queue to look up. She’s allowed to see, probably allowed to contribute an opinion now. Maybe Anya isn’t even mad at her anymore.

 

Anya unrolls the parchment.

 

“ _Anya_ ,” it’s clear Archie’s trying his best not to laugh, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

 

Elsea stares at the poster blankly for what feels like hours. Unreal. It’s colorful, a blown up version of the High Roller symbol. The black crown sits on the center of the page, with words like “death” and “seizures” and “destruction” printed all along the interior. Over it is a big, red ‘x’ symbol that blinks on and off like a warning sign.

 

However, the worst part is the quote that sat in bold print on the very top of the page.

 

“High Roller, more like Die Roller.”

 

Elsea finds herself in a rare predicament: she’s speechless.

 

“Do you mean like those,” Archie narrows his eyes, staring at the quote, “muggle rolling things that you use to gamble?”

 

“No.” Anya glares at him, rerolling the poster before they could speak again. “You know very well I’m talking about the High Roller and his - or her, could be a girl - affinity to the destruction of the sanctity of the Hogwart’s youth.”

 

“What the fuck does that even mean?” asks Archie. He looks offended.

 

Elsea decides it’s a better time to speak than ever. “It means what you think it means, you git. Anya thinks the High Roller is harming the students at Hogwarts, i.e., _us_ , and she’s going to protest it.”

 

Archie’s offense fades to horror. “Wait… but - Anya, _why_?”

 

“Because,” Anya chimes in, looking at Elsea thankfully, “what I saw last week _changed_ me, Archie. You guys were so helpless. Do you know how utterly terrifying it was? Watching you lay mindlessly on the grass? No control over your basic motor functions? It wasn’t okay, guys. I thought I lost you.”

 

Elsea feels terribly guilty, but can’t find it in herself to apologize again, so she remains silent.

 

“I was fine with the High Roller selling weed now and again. Like sure, it’s still drugs, but at least it’s not _quaaludes_. But now, I don’t think I have it in me to stand for it anymore, watching you guys sit around and destroy your lives. If the High Roller wants to sell hard drugs, I’m gonna play hardball.”

 

Elsea nods her head and silently wishes Archie would stop staring at her like _that_.

 

“Good,” she squeaks, “good on you, Anya. That’s an interesting cause.”

 

“You really think so?” Anya looks at her, shocked. “Because I thought you’d, I don’t know, hate it? You’re like the biggest girl pothead I know besides Hadley.”

 

“Yeah,” Elsea says, “it’s good.”

 

Anya gives her a fond smile before continuing on about her cause again. “I’m starting a club about it. It’s gonna be called S.A.P.S.: _Students Against Pot Smoking_. Our first order of business is to take down the High Roller and reveal him - or her - to the public.”

 

Elsea’s hand starts to shake. She’s having a panic attack.

 

“Infiltrate the dealers, find the supplier. It’s basic, really. I already know Ricky Maddox sells, because, well, everyone knows that. I dunno how the rest of the school doesn’t know by now.”

 

Elsea feels like ripping the skin of her face off. This is horrible. This is madness. This is…. so Anya…

 

“Then, once I get to the High Roller, hopefully, they get suspended. Or better, _expelled_.”

 

Elsea is on the verge of a full-on breakdown. Her pen snaps in her hand.

 

“Wow, you ok Els?” Anya asks, still happy and chipper as ever.

 

Archie and Elsea share a horrified look.

 

“I’m fine,” Elsea says, her voice sounds surprisingly level. “Just wondering where I’m gonna get my weed from after you bust this, um, bastard.”

 

Archie laughs too hard in response to that. “Yeah,” he nearly pants, “I might start growing myself.”

 

Anya rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Oh you guys,” she coos, smiling. Elsea has never seen her look so terrifying before. “You have Elsea’s brother. He can send you some of that less harmful muggle weed like once a month.”

 

 _Stan_.

 

Archie is scratching his neck. It’s a well-known fact to Elsea that, when Archie gets nervous, he gets itchy. Once in the fourth year, when he thought he might get caught cheating on his transfiguration exams, he broke out into hives over his entire body. Ended up in the hospital wing for days, missing the exam and getting excused from taking it in the first place.

 

“Has anyone joined this organization yet?” Elsea asks. “Has Dumbledore approved it?”

 

Anya shrugs. “Well, it’s an anti-drug campaign, so I’m sure Dumbledore will be more than fine with it. I’ve heard he’s trying to get the High Roller once and for all now, too. I’m sure he’d love SAPS. And as for members… well, I got you guys, right?”

 

Archie bursts out laughing. Anya fixes him what can only be described as a death glare.

 

“How do you expect anyone to take this organization seriously if the only members are _us_?” Archie asks. “Everyone and their mother knows Elsea and I are just about the biggest burnouts in all of Ravenclaw.”

 

As much as Elsea would like to stick up for Anya, because Archie really is a prat, he has a point. A really good, lifesaving point.

 

Anya frowns. “Darn, you’re right.”

 

“I guess so,” Elsea says sadly, “and I was really looking forward to helping you out.”

 

“Shame,” Archie adds.

 

“Real Shame.”

 

“Well no, wait,” Anya says, looking panicked. “It could work if you guys went clean. Actually, it’d be a huge statement. You can be the spokespeople! How your lives turned around after you stopped smoking. It’ll be inspirational. People will look to you for advice, you’ll be making speeches. It’ll be perfect.”

 

Elsea frowns and Archie bites his lip nervously. “Too bad I’m no good at speeches.”

 

“Ruddy awful at them, really,” Elsea agrees. “I stutter in front of crowds.”

 

Anya sighs. “You’re no fun. I’ll convince you yet!” She springs from her seat. “Well, suppose I should start looking for some supplemental texts. Be back in a few!”

 

They watch as she disappears behind the bookshelves and out of sight. It takes them a few moments of just staring at each other before Archie lets out another nervous laugh.

 

“I have all these crazy emotions right now,” he says, wiping his hand along his brow, “and I don’t know how to express any of them sober. Should we just go get high right now?”

 

“That’s possibly the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Elsea digs her heel into his calf under the table, “and you just brought up the idea of electric nunchucks to me moments ago.”

 

“Wait, why is that a stupid idea?”

 

“Because nunchucks are metal and you’d probably get electrocuted. But that beside the point—“

 

“—I’d _obviously_ have a rubber grip,” Archie argues, “and maybe they can become electric after I throw them. Like, set on a timer. Like a camera.”

 

Elsea buries her face in her hands, groaning loudly enough to cause a near stir in the neighboring sections of the library. Archie places a comforting hand on her back.

 

“She doesn’t stand a chance, you know,” Archie says, “even if she found out it was you, I’d doubt she’d believe it.”

 

Elsea groans again, not fully buying it.

 

“I’ll take the fall for you if you’d like, you know, if she ever finds out,” Archie offers sincerely. Elsea’s heart swells a bit at his sincerity; knowing that he probably wouldn’t be able to pull off something so elaborate, but it’s the intent that counts. “Anya probably wouldn’t care that I did it. We’re only friends in the first place because of you. I don’t mind.”

 

It’s then that she feels guilty for the second time that night because Anya would care about a thousand times more if Archie was the High Roller rather than herself. Also the fact that Archie thinks Anya and him are only friends because of _her_ \- and that he doesn’t mind losing her - that would kill the poor girl. Elsea decides that she has found herself in the predicaments of all predicaments.

 

She needs air.

 

“I think I’m gonna go take a walk or something,” Elsea tells him, standing up. Archie's arm falls to his side as he nods curtly. “I need air, desperately.”

 

“Okay, I get it,” Archie says, “but if you want to smoke, just like, come find me first.”

 

Elsea flicks his ear as she moves past. “Like I said, not likely Arch.”

 

She weaves through the stacks and the shelves, sending curt smiles to friends and classmates, feeling a heavy weight start to fall onto her chest. Anya’s newfound activism is more than just a minor thing. She needs a plan. She desperately needs a plan.

 

Sometimes she wishes she had a more capable mind to help her sort this all out. Not that Archie isn’t, well, tolerably smart. He’s in Ravenclaw after all. But there are things not even Archie’s brain can manage - and something as elaborate as a blatant lie to Anya Darzi, who is undoubtedly smarter than the both of them - would not be his forte. He’s a lovable idiot and frighteningly loyal. But a planner, Archie is not.

 

She makes it to the front of the library and thinks she sees a familiar sandy blonde head but decides against it. She doesn’t need to think about Remus Lupin right now.

 

(But even the thought of him makes her heart flutter a little.)

 

Elsea slips out the doors, down the corridor, and throws open an unlocked classroom. She strolls straight to the windows and props one open. As she sits there, letting the breeze tickle her cheeks, she remembers there are more important things happening than Anya and her Anti-High Roller crusade.

 

There’s a war out there. Beyond the safe castle walls, there are people fearing for their lives as they walk outside their house, as they go to work, as they kiss their children goodnight. She should be so fortunate that _this_ is her biggest problem, that maybe she’s able to help those secluded in this castle, away from their families, feel a bit more peace in the midst of all this pain. But she just feels worry: selfish, intolerable worry that she might get caught, that she might hurt Anya, or worse, that she might no longer be able to pay for Stan and Paisley.

 

There’s a stark creaking of old floorboards that rips Elsea from her thoughts. She turns left to see the tall, unmistakable form of Sirius Black leaning in the doorway. She keeps herself from gasping but finds that instead of looking inquisitive, she can only manage a bitchy look.

 

“Shit, you caught me,” he says, smiling sheepishly and holding his rather large hands out in front of him. “Thought it’d be funny if I pushed you out.”

 

“Black,” Elsea sighs, “we are literally over 150 meters off the ground.”

 

“We are?” Sirius slides onto a desk, crossing his legs. “That’s too bad, probably wouldn’t have been that funny after all then, huh?”

 

“What are you doing in here?”

 

“I was,” Sirius clears his throat and reaches into his pocket, “actually going to plant something under Point’s chair. A prank. For tomorrow.” He brandishes a rock.

 

“A rock?” Elsea asks, turning around and shutting the window behind her. “That should be very effective.”

 

“You just wait until I turn it into a fire breathing toad.”

 

“Right.” Elsea nods. She’s got to get out of here before he starts asking questions. “Well, I better be off. Happy transfiguring, Black.”

 

“Wait.”

 

 

“It’ll take two seconds and we can walk to the library together,” Sirius offers. “Saw Blackwater and your other friend in there before so I just kind of figured that’s where you were heading.”

 

Elsea doesn’t have it in her to tell any more lies that day. Reluctantly, she says, “Okay, fine. Hurry up.”

 

Sirius pulls out his wand and points at the little gray stone. He mutters once, the tip of his wand lighting faintly before flickering out. “Stage fright,” he says, frustrated, before flicking his wrist again. “Don’t you worry. I’ve got this.”

 

“I’m sure you do.”

 

Sirius starts muttering again, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed. Elsea has never seen him look this concentrated before. Actually, she’s sure a very few people have seen him this concentrated _ever_. She concludes that boys are ridiculously serious about their pranks. And also just plain ridiculous.

 

Finally, the rock transforms into a shiny, black toad. It croaks and slimes all over the table.

 

“Gross.” Elsea shivers. She can’t help herself, amphibians always skeeved her.

 

“Don’t be rude,” Sirius says before scooping the toad up. “He’s got feelings, you know. Little champion. I think that’s what I’ll name him.”

 

“Cool.”

 

“Incredibly,” Sirius says before placing him under a desk. Then he petrifies him.

 

Elsea shrieks.

 

“ _What the fuck?_ ”

 

“It’s so he stays put,” Sirius explains, throwing his hands up. “Relax, I’m the one who made him.”

 

“That’s bloody animal cruelty, Black.”

 

“Well, he’s not actually a toad, now, is he?” Sirius replies. “Used to be a rock. It’s just like the olden days, then. He’s used to not moving, not thinking, not _ribbiting_.”

 

“You _named_ him,” Elsea protests. This day is just too weird for her. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

 

Sirius throws his arm around her shoulders and grins wolfishly down at her. She sees that his teeth are unusually sharp on the outsides. “Come on Holmes, keep the secret for me?”

 

 _You’re lucky you’re fit_ , Elsea thinks,  _because you’re bloody nuts._

 

“Do you think I’d ever help Point?” Elsea says, before shimmying out of his grasp. “I’m leaving. You can stay and babysit your toad.”

 

She starts to walk out of the room. Sirius follows her, his long strides making it easy for him to catch up. “Admit it, you think my plan is brilliant.”

 

Elsea looks at him over her shoulder and laughs. “I don’t even know your plan. You’re just setting a toad underneath a tosser’s desk. Is he terrified of toads? What’s the aim here?”

 

He barks out in laughter. “Well, of course, I’m going to unpetrify the damn thing in the middle of lessons tomorrow and watch as Champion bites Point’s nads off.”

 

She furrows her brow. “Do toads bite?”

 

“Champion does,” Sirius says proudly, then adds, “and he breathes fire, remember? Though, that bit was James’ idea. And I needed Remus for the spell.”

 

“How could I forget?”

 

“Simple memory charm. But I wouldn’t do that to you, mate.” Sirius attempts that arm-over-the-shoulders move again but Elsea slips away coyly.

 

“Say,” he mentions, stroking his chin as if this is coming up naturally in conversation, “why were you in that room anyway? Do you even take Ancient Runes?”

 

Elsea nods her head, staring at the ceiling pensively and hoping for a good reason other than ‘existential crisis/anxiety attack’ to fall out of the sky. Nothing came. _We’re in the same class, arsehole. There are like, six people,_ she thinks.

 

“I was actually waiting for you,” Elsea jokes. Sirius Black seemed like the kind who’d take well to that kind of humor. He sort of reminds her of Archie, a bit. “I knew you’d show up at some point.”

 

“Oh were you?” Sirius winks.

 

“I just knew the,” she turns her head to nod back at the classroom they just came out of, “Ancient Runes classroom was a classic Sirius Black hang out spot.”

 

“Ah yes,” Sirius nods his head, “Ancient Runes classroom. That’s where I take all my ladies. Runespoors really gets ‘em going.”

 

“Gets me going,” Elsea agrees. “I’m hot just thinking about it.”

 

“Are you really? Because we can turn around.”

 

She laughs.

 

“Listen,” Elsea stops to stare at him seriously for a moment, “I would rather snog that perpetually stoned Hufflepuff than go back into that classroom with you.”

 

“Jason?” Sirius gasps. “Really? Ah, come on.”

 

“Really.”

 

Sirius sighs. “Well, I can’t fight it. Love that bloke. Lightens the mood. I’m sure he’d be a right good snog.”

 

“Met him for the first time last week, properly.” Elsea laughs at the memory, forgetting her annoyance with Sirius. “With Remus, on patrol.”

 

“Oooooh,” Sirius clucks, smirking down at her, “with _Remus_ , huh?”

 

“Yeah. With _Remus_.” Elsea bites back, remembering her annoyance. “What’s it to you?”

 

“Oh it’s nothing to me,” Sirius says, waggling his eyebrows, “but it’s sure something, am I right?”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

“Oh come on—“

 

“—Elsea?” Anya, as usual, arrives at the wrong time. Her expression is pretty neutral, but everything about her eyes screams _what the bloody hell are you doing with Sirius Black?_ “What’s up?”

 

“Nothing,” Elsea shrugs, “I was just taking a walk and I ran into Black, here.”

 

“Sirius Black,” Sirius says abruptly, holding out his hand for a shake. “That’s my name.”

 

Anya nods her head, giving him a short once over. “Okay. Um, Anya Darzi.”

 

Sirius quickly takes his rejected hand and runs it through his hair. _Nice try_ , Elsea thinks. “You need help with those?” Elsea asks, pointing to the stack of books. The one on top says, ‘ _Why staying sober makes you popular_!’ She feels that right in the stomach.

 

“I’m okay,” Anya says. But she’s tiny, and visually struggling. Sirius takes out his wand before anyone else can say a word.

 

“ _Wingaurdium Leviosa!_ ” Sirius incants. The book floats up gracefully at first before knocking roughly into Anya’s chin.

 

“Ouch, _hell_!” she howls in pain, then slurs, “I bit my tongue.”

 

“I’m so sorry, fuck!” Sirius goes to help her, but he drops the wand and the book falls flat on his foot. “ _Fuck_.”

 

“Stop swearing so much.” Anya insists. But her tongue is swollen, so it comes out with a terrible lisp and Elsea wants to die from laughter. The whole scene is such a ruddy mess that Elsea can barely believe it’s happening. She’s heard Sirius Black is a bit of a lothario, a ladies man, or whatever, but this is the opposite of being “good with the ladies.”

 

In fact, she’s pretty much certain he’s crashing and burning harder than she’s literally ever seen. And it’s _Anya_ , the girl has had about as much boy experience as that one-night fifth year when she snogged the head boy. She’s _naive_ , cute, but _naive_ , and perpetually hung up on Archie. Which, Elsea thinks, is concerning in itself. So the fact that Sirius Black just tried to impress the pants off of her, and _failed_? Well, Elsea can’t lie, this is turning into a fine evening.

 

Sirius looks like he might cry, at this point, that’s how little he knows about what to do. So Elsea swoops in, tossing a protective arm around Anya’s shoulders and giving him a look that says _cool it, player._

 

“You okay?” Elsea asks in her motherly voice she says just for Anya and Archie when she’s being patronizing. “Let me see.”

 

“It’s fine,” Anya insists, moving her jaw a bit. Sirius just gapes at the pair of them. “I’ve got loads to do. Don’t have time for this.”

 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Elsea squeezes her arm, “you’ve just been so busy all day. Maybe you should head back to the library, finish up, and I’ll, uh, take care of some things out here.”

 

Anya just looks at her and nods. She thinks Elsea means something about getting information out of Sirius about Remus, probably. Which is like, half true. Anya nods and leaves down the corridor without even a look in Sirius’ way.

 

Once she’s gone Sirius’ shoulders relax and he says, “That one likes to play hard to get, huh?”

 

Elsea gapes at him. “Is that what you call hard to get? Bloody hell Black, that’s when a girl isn’t interested. Not playing hard to get.”

 

He shrugs. Sirius is tall, not as tall as Remus. Elsea is close to eye level with him, and she can see the attraction. His eyes are grey and inky, like ice waiting to thaw. At least, that’s what she reckons most girls see when they look into them. But Elsea, who quite literally only has eyes for one man, sees right through him. Despite his good looks, that well-toned body and charm, he’s not really much. All air. All ego. “We’ll see.”

 

“Don’t be that wanker.”

 

He throws his arms into the air. “Ah, come on! I just mean she doesn’t even know me!”

 

“Maybe she doesn’t want to.”

 

“How is that possible?”

 

Elsea rolls her eyes. “You do realize she’s about to become the school's biggest anti-drug activist of all time. She’s going to _destroy_ you.”

 

“Destroy me?” Sirius laughs sardonically. “That means nothing to me. I can be the second biggest anti-drug activist if she wants. No problem.”

 

“I don’t like this,” Elsea says. You can disrespect her, you can disrespect her business, but once you start disrespecting her best friend - Elsea gets serious. “Stay away from Anya Darzi unless your intentions aren’t -”

 

She trails off, giving Sirius a dissatisfied once over.

 

“- Sirius Black-y. For a lack of a better term.”

 

“Well, unless your intentions with Remus aren’t,” he pauses, doing the same once over look, “Elsea Holmes-y, I’d prefer you stayed away from _my mate_ , as well.”

 

“This has _nothing_ to do with Remus,” Elsea snaps, lowering her voice. She doesn’t need anyone hearing about _that_. “And you can’t even stop me. I have patrol with him.”

 

The last bit makes her sound like a territorial nine-year-old on the playground, but when it comes to Remus, Elsea feels like she needs to fight for her claims.

 

Sirius shakes his head, exasperated as he leads her behind a suit of armor for more privacy. There might not be many people in the corridor, but clearly he doesn’t want to take any chances. “Listen, do you hear us? We’re pathetic.”

 

“I’m not pathetic.”

 

“Yes. You are. We both are. You a _little more_ than me--” he stops when he sees the look she’s giving him, “--which is beside the point. That’s why we need to first of all, come to terms with it. And secondly, help each other out.”

 

Elsea stares at him, contemplating. That could work, she supposes. Of course, she’d be selling Anya out completely, but thinking about it, that might not be the worst thing. Considering how hung up on Archie she’s been, maybe a new, Archie-like fill-in would do her some good. Distract her from her Anti-High Roller business, too. Sirius Black seems like a handful.

 

And of course, Elsea is up for anything that involves the pursuing of Remus Lupin. There’s no denying that.

 

“Okay,” Elsea agrees. For some reason, she feels herself relax instantly. Maybe it’s because she’s most comfortable when she’s doing some work under the table. Elsea’s always liked getting her hands dirty, though. “ _Fine_ , what do you have in mind?”

 

Sirius just grins and utters a single word, “Hogsmeade.”

 

 

-.-

 

It’s not that Remus dislikes being around James, Sirius, and Peter. It’s that sometimes he needs a break. Sometimes he needs to spend time with people who actually care about their schoolwork. And those people, it seems, happen to be Lily Evans and Alice Hackney.

 

Mary MacDonald is there, too, but more of an added bonus, perhaps. Well, he’s not sure if she’s a bonus. But she’s added. Legs up on the table, chewing gum noisily and looking around the library for some sort of distraction. Mary isn’t in potions, but she doesn’t seem to want to leave Alice and Lily alone for ten minutes to finish their essays.

 

Remus, luckily, is nearly done with his. He’s been able to compartmentalize his other growing problems, the biggest at the moment being Mary’s obnoxious chewing, and crank out a good, if not impressive, essay. If only he knew how to tell her “please refrain from chomping on your gum like a beast” kindly.

 

“I’m gonna go for a smoke,” Mary says, looking directly at Remus. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d been accidentally glaring at her for the past five minutes. “Come?”

 

Remus waves his quill and shakes his head. “Can’t. Two more paragraphs and a conclusion.”

 

Mary cracks her gum loudly and Remus cringes. “Sucks. I’ll be off.”

 

“Mary,” Lily clicks her tongue, “wait a few. I’ll finish this up. We can go to the kitchens and have a snack. James showed me how to sneak in.”

 

Alice giggles, nodding agreeably. Remus would be lying if he wasn’t feeling a little bit betrayed by James showing his girlfriend Marauders secrets. It’s silly, he knows, but whatever.

 

Mary shrugs. “Whatever, okay? I’m going to go find some magazines.”

 

She pushes herself off her chair, and her curvy hips swing as she trots around and out of sight behind the stacks of books.

 

Alice and Lily share an intense sigh. “We’ve been trying to get her to stop smoking since the beginning of the term,” Lily explains to Remus. “She’s been up to a pack a day now.”

 

Remus only nods. He doesn’t find it really that odd, seeing as Sirius also smokes each day. And, well, Remus himself is known to a have cigarette or two. But their concern is touching. Sort of. If he was interested in that sort of thing, of course.

 

“We’ve been awfully concerned,” Alice continues, looking at Remus as if he has all the answers, “we think she might be smoking that,” she lowers her voice, “ _enchanted marijuana_.”

 

Would he ever escape the High Roller? He doesn’t even have the energy to feign surprise.

 

“Oh, really?”

 

“Yes,” Lily nods, her voice in a hushed whisper, “it’s worrisome, don’t you think?

 

“Uh, sure,” Remus says, picking at the feathers on his quill. “I mean, if she does it too much I guess. Every once in a while doesn’t seem like it’s that detrimental.”

 

Alice, a round-faced blonde girl with unusually light blue eyes, shakes her head in disagreement. He’s never been particularly close to Alice, but he can see why Peter fancies her so much. She’s sweet, unassuming, and well, pretty willing to shag, from what he’s heard in passing from Frank Longbottom, her long-time boyfriend. She’s also way out of Peter’s league, of course.

 

“Are you _kidding_? It’s terrible for you. It literally destroys your cognitive functions,” Lily argues vehemently. Her green eyes sparkle with rage and Remus can feel the start of a Lily Evans Rant heading his way. 

 

Since when is she so irritating? Remus’ eyes flicker briefly from Alice to Lily. “Your boyfriend does it plenty.”

 

 _Oops_ , he thinks, hardly regretfully.

 

Lily’s face grows red immediately. Not with embarrassment, but anger. “Don’t you mean, _used_ to?”

 

Remus freezes, and feels the sudden urge to tug at his collar. He knows if anything that would make him look nervous. So he continues to fuss around with this quill and says a casual, “Isn’t that what I said?”

 

“No you said, ‘does it plenty’ actually. Present tense.”

 

Remus finds himself wishing Lily was a bit more of an idiot. “My mistake,” Remus accidentally snaps the top of his quill off, “syntactical error.”

 

Alice looks nervously between the two of them, chewing vigorously on her thumbnail.

 

“Better be,” Lily mutters, aggressively rolling her parchment down. “Even so, if James smoked, it’s completely different than Mary. James knows how to handle himself, _and_ he only does it at parties. It’s just unclassy, you know? I don’t want to be seen with someone who’s all stoned up all the time. Especially one of my best girlfriends. We’ve got to keep appearances.”

 

Remus isn't sure why exactly, but he feels the urge to defend Mary MacDonald. “Well, I think she looks fine. I haven’t noticed if she’s stoned _ever_.”

 

“Yeah, well, that’s because you’re with that Elsea Holmes all the time,” Lily fires back. It catches Remus off guard, he raises his eyebrows. “You’re probably immune to all those druggie antics. You know I heard about that incident, Remus, with the ludes in the common room.”

 

Like clockwork, Mary returns with a large stack of Witch Weeklys. She plops them onto the counter, looking around at everyone’s staring faces. “What’s up all your bums?”

 

“What is a _lewd_ , anyway?” Alice asks, her pronunciation a bit off. Remus and Lily ignore the both of them.

 

“James told you about that?” Remus feels less guilty for accidentally ratting on him moments ago. Actually, he’s pretty angry, now. “That’s just fantastic.”

 

“He’s only looking out for _you_ when he tells me these things.” Lily finishes her essay with a fervent drop of her quill on the parchment. A perfect period ends her probably flawless concluding paragraph.

 

Remus frowns. “Oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah. And I think what James is trying to say,” Lily starts rolling up her parchment, “is that Elsea Holmes is bad news. You shouldn’t hang around with a girl like that, Remus. She’s trouble.”

 

Remus can hardly believe his ears. Is Lily Evans lecturing him about who he should spend his time with? Like they’re more than casual homework partners? It sounded like she didn’t even _know_ James. Last time Remus checked, James was smoking a big old blunt with the lads in the Forbidden Forest literally two days ago.

 

Plus, he’s not even ‘hanging around’ with Elsea much anyways. She’s a flirty acquaintance at best. What the hell does Lily Evans know?

 

“I’ve never liked her,” Alice says quietly. “She always fixes me with one of those death stares. You know, like this.” Alice puts on what Remus has to admit is a very accurate Elsea Holmes glare. He _almost_ laughs.

 

Lily nods, running her hands through her shoulder length ginger hair. “Really? I reckon she came high to our prefect's meeting on the train a few weeks ago. Brought armfuls of food. She munched the entire meeting, not stopping for air, not even once! And when it was all over she asked if there was a _comment card_ she had to fill out. Absolutely absurd.”

 

Remus remembers that. And sure, it may have been a bit unorthodox but it was _funny_.

 

“If you ask me, she has got a bit of brain damage from all that,” Alice makes another gesture like she’s taking a hit off a joint, “you know.”

 

“It’s just so much wasted potential. She’s supposed to be some big herbology prodigy and there she is, smoking all of her plants.”

 

“Terrible.”

 

“She’s an absolute nightmare, that girl.”

 

Remus, who has the sudden urge to throw his quill into each of their eyes, quickly forces himself to finish his essay. While Alice and Lily continue to gossip childishly about Elsea, he rolls up his parchment, stuffs it into his bag, bids them a good night.

 

Stalking off back to the Gryffindor Tower, he thinks about how Elsea Holmes really isn’t half as bad as they seem to think. They just take themselves too seriously. If anything, Lily could use a date with Maddox and whomever the allusive, annoying, troublesome, High Roller is. He’d love to arrange that; James would be _furious_.

 

As he lays in his bed, finally done for the day, he’s thankful that the moon is a crescent and that Elsea Holmes smokes her pot without shame. Something has to be in order in this screwed up castle, after all.

 

 

 


	7. Stuck In The Middle With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have an urgent question lads,” he says, adjusting his hat and straightening up. He leans towards Remus and Sirius, closely, and lowers his voice. “I got ready in a rush this morning and I’m seriously concerned my crotch looks, you know, bulge-y.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are wonderful and perfect and we love you to bits!!!! Thanks for all the support as we continue along this adventure. Enjoy!

For the first time in months, Remus is feeling almost _slightly_ normal.

 

Though, normal for a rabid werewolf is one thing. Normal to the average Hogwarts student, that’s another. Remus, however, has managed to find a rhythm that suits him quite well. He studies, he goes to his lessons, he eats three meals a day (and a fourth, if the house elves are feeling friendly and Sirius feels the need to escape to the kitchens), he goes on rounds with Elsea Holmes and has civil-bridging-on-flirtatious banter with her, he even turns into his wolf form quite gracefully. Last time, he only pulled a few bushes from the ground and got a decent night’s sleep.

 

He’s even managed to get his mates into the library with him for coursework a few times. It took a lot of convincing, but he got James pretty easily after going on a mantra about how finishing his charms practice _early_ allows for more prank planning time. It’s been a seven year effort, so Remus is moderately proud of that accomplishment.

 

Of course, he couldn’t completely withstand all trouble. His best friends are James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew, after all. There’s a certain caveat that goes along with those names. Most include mayhem. Typically spiteful laughter. But he has to give it to himself: Sirius only earned a single detention for a well-played prank on a pack of particularly nasty Slytherin seventh year girls. Peter took the fall for the toad prank on Markus Point instituted by Sirius, and would be serving detention during that day’s Hogsmeade trip. But that setback isn’t enough to destroy his newfound good mood. 

 

“If you could fuck _any_ professor,” Sirius asks, “who would it be?”

 

Remus gapes, dumbfounded. “I’m not answering that.”

 

“You have to.”

 

Remus and Sirius are leaning against the corridor wall outside the Great Hall when James comes barreling towards them, the stocking cap on his head bouncing up and down as he comes to a skidding halt.

 

“I have an _urgent_ question lads,” he says, adjusting his hat and straightening up. He leans towards Remus and Sirius, closely, and lowers his voice. “I got ready in a rush this morning and I’m seriously concerned my crotch looks, you know, bulge-y.”

 

“Okay,” Sirius says, shockingly serious, “show us the damage.”

 

James then proceeds to yank his long coat open flasher-style, displaying trousers that are in fact tight enough to make Remus feel the need to look away very, _very_ quickly.

 

Sirius squints his eyes and inspects the situation. “I think you’re doing something very right with those corduroys,” he tells James, grinning at Remus for support. “In fact, I think you should wear them more often. For the good of mankind.”

 

“Really?” James looks far too relieved before impromptly adjusting himself. “So I’m fine?”

 

Remus scoffs. “If fine is everyone knowing you have a tiny cock, then yeah. You’re doing fucking terrific.”

 

“Wait, what?” James cries, closing his coat scornfully. The look on his face resembles nothing but true and utter terror. Remus shrugs, secretly proud of himself. It probably isn’t the nicest thing to tell your best friend that he’s poorly endowed right before he goes out on a date with his girlfriend _and_ is clearly looking for some sort of pre-date ego boost.

 

However, he finds it difficult to care after the library episode two weeks ago in which Lily informed him of James’ big, fat, obnoxiously traitorous mouth. Well, not traitorous, just shitty. Remus has never thought of himself as the type of bloke to feel betrayed when one of his friends gets a girlfriend and prioritizes her over him, but there’s a very spiteful part of Remus, deep down, that wants to roast James Potter on a stick in the Gryffindor fireplace. And his annoying girlfriend too, why the hell not.

 

“Guys what am I gonna do?” James asks, clearly distressed now. “These are the only trousers I have left. The rest I accidentally shrunk in the laundry and I--”

 

“--Prongs, fix it with magic,” Remus says, exasperated. “We are literally _wizards_.”

 

“I tried that, but it just keeps getting worse.” James is nearly shouting. “I think someone messed with my trousers. The Slytherins, maybe. I don’t _know_. I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Are you sure it wasn’t just Lily?” Sirius asks, smirking. “Maybe she’s just as obsessed with your genitals as you are with hers.”

 

“Oh I doubt that,” Remus cuts in before James can even attempt a smug look.

 

There is a brief moment in which James and Remus share a look of mutual disdain before Remus feels all of his hatred and annoyance wash away. A few rude jabs at James, and he’s satisfied. Well, at least for the hour.

 

“You’ll be fine, Prongs. Just keep your coat on.”

 

James nods a few times before clapping Remus on the arm. He then grins, glancing between Sirius and Remus before nodding once more. “Alright. Thanks mates. Moony. Padfoot. Wish me luck.”

 

“You don’t need luck,” Sirius shakes his head, “just use that natural charm you use on me. If I, you know, swung that way, I’d be all over you.”

 

Remus resists the urge to roll his eyes and manages to keep a pleasant look on his face. James throws his arms around Sirius’ shoulders quickly, and then retreats down the castle halls, yelling for Lily.

 

“Anyway,” Sirius barks, turning back to Remus, “which Professor would you shag?”

 

“Your mum,” Remus responds quickly. Pushing himself off the wall, he starts down the corridor and towards the large oak doors that lead out to the grounds.

 

“She’s not a professor, you twat. And my mum is a bitch.” Sirius jogs to catch up, his new black jacket hanging unbuttoned. He’d been showing it off in the dormitories that morning, a present from his cousin Andromeda, who is the only person in his family he still gets on with.

 

“Well sometimes, when we role play--”

 

“ _\--enough,_ you sick bastard.” Sirius puts his hand directly in Remus’ face. “Let’s just - let’s line up and never speak of this again. Please.”

 

They begin walking in silence before Remus jabs Sirius lightly in the ribs with his elbow. “Your mum really is something though. That _rack_ …”

 

“Shut the fuck up.”

 

Remus sports an amused look as they stroll out of the castle and follow the line of students heading for Hogsmeade. They have the option of walking or taking a carriage, and in all of Remus’ years at Hogwarts, they’ve only taken the carriage once when it was raining.

 

Ahead of them, Remus notices Elsea Holmes’ friend Archie Blackwater, with his arm slung around the shoulders of a petite girl of Chinese descent. He’s talking loudly, holding a thick looking bright pink wallet. “It’s a mood wallet,” Remus overhears, “pink means I see something I _like_.” The girl under his arm blushes and giggles, Remus feels his breakfast coming back up.

 

Just the sight of Archie Blackwater tends to send Sirius into a rant, either about Quidditch or the High Roller or his general, raging distaste for the kid. Remus, who doesn’t want to spend all of the day with Sirius grumbling about either topic, quickly speaks over Blackwater’s booming voice to distract his friend.

 

“But to answer your question,” Remus stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coat, an old dark grey thing that used to be his father’s, “I’d shag McGonagall. Hands down.”

 

“Moony,” Sirius gasps, incredulously, “that is _exactly_ who I would shag.”

 

“She’s got knowledge, authority; I reckon she’d dominate in the bedroom.”

 

“See,” Sirius shakes his head, “it’s the opposite for me. I’d like a chance to really show Minerva what she’s missing. Bit of domination on my end.”

 

Remus mentally vomits, but nods all the same. Sirius has a wild grin on his face, one that suggests he’s thinking really randy, nasty thoughts. Sirius’ brain is best distracted by one thing and one thing only: sex. And pranks, but Remus is so bloody sick of those.

 

“Oh, by the way,” Sirius whistles quickly, getting Remus to look at them as they stroll out of the large gates and onto the Hogsmeade path, “lookie what I snagged from Wormtail’s trunk. Poor bugger doesn’t think I know where he keeps it.”

 

Inside Sirius’ pocket is Peter’s flask, metal and shiny and most certainly filled to the brim with vodka. Which Peter claims is his “poison of choice” or whatever.

 

Remus smirks. “Cheers.”

 

“Cheers indeed. Stop by the Shack before we head over? I reckon I could use with a bit of a smoke.”

 

Remus nods, fingering the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. Sirius had handed them to him before they left the dorms, because _his_ pockets were new and _he_ couldn’t ruin the smell with cigarettes. But apparently he could with vodka, and Remus’ ratty old coat was no matter to him at all.

 

Behind them a couple of cute Hufflepuff girls are chatting quietly. Sirius catches a glimpse of them over his shoulder and smiles. He elbows Remus and mutters, “Two cute Puffs behind us, mate. Dibs on the left.”

 

Remus glances over his shoulder, noticing the girl on the left is a pretty redhead from their potions class, and her brunette friend. Who is familiar, on first glance. And then completely recognizable, on second. _Nope_. His stomach drops for a second as he turns around and rasps to Sirius, “Those are Willa’s friends.”

 

Sirius raises his eyebrows, glances one more time, and says, “Eh, they weren’t that cute anyway.”

 

Remus, who shouldn’t be surprised to see the friends of his ex-girlfriend walking behind him, feels more than a little shaken up. If Willa Jones had any idea that Remus is so much as breathing the same air as one, nonetheless _two_ of her friends, it would surely be the end of his life. She’s quite unforgiving, that girl. But then again, it’s not like she shouldn’t be. Remus knows that if he were ever in the situation she was put in - he more than likely would hold on to it for the rest of his life too.

 

Now the flask in Sirius’ pocket and the pack of cigarettes in his seem a little more tempting.

 

“You wanna take a different way?” Sirius asks, tipping his head towards a different trail. “Or just smoke behind the Hogs Head?”

 

“No, no, It’s fine,” Remus shakes his head, “we’re practically there.”

 

Taking a different trail makes it seem obvious that he’s absolutely terrified of the girls behind him. He doesn’t wanna show that; they’d probably report right back to _her_ if he made any sudden movements. Besides, he wants Willa to think he doesn’t care anyway, not that he’s avoiding her and her friends like the plague (even if he kind of is.)

 

Luckily for him, when he and Sirius take a hard left to take the trail to the Shack, Willa’s friends take the right path which heads straight to Honeydukes and the rest of Hogsmeade.

 

He doesn’t want to take a sigh of relief, but he does, as he and Sirius are the only two students, or rather people, in the small forest near the Shack. Sirius easily climbs over the short fence with his long legs, as Remus climbs a bit to get over. They head up the path towards the actual Shack.

 

“What are you doing?” Remus asks when Sirius settles against a worn, haggard wall. “Aren’t we going in?”

 

Sirius raises his brows and shakes his head. “Why would we do that?”

 

“We always go in.”

 

“Not always. Sometimes.”

 

Remus looks at Sirius skeptically.

 

“It’s freezing outside, mate.” He rubs his hands together and blows a bit of visible air out. “Look, you can see my breath.”

 

“Don’t be such a baby, Moony.”

 

“Did you just call me a baby? Are we in first year again?”

 

“Yeah, got a bit of pre-ejaculate in my pants too.”

 

Remus shakes his head, turning around to continue walking. “Wait!” Sirius calls. “Where are you going? Remus, come back.”

 

“I’m out of here. You can freeze your nads off, I’ll wait inside.”

 

“It’s not like it’s gonna be much warmer in there. And you have the cigarettes.”

 

Remus rolls his eyes, fishing the pack from his pocket, and tosses it to Sirius.

 

“I don’t care. It’s soggy and wet and I’m ankle-deep in mud.” It’s the first day in nearly a week that it’s not rained. But the path, and the ground around the Shack, is nothing but a mud pit. They only slightly avoided the worst of it by jumping the back fence.

 

Sirius lets out a frustrated sigh, looking over Remus’ shoulder hopefully. “Well, I think that,” he stops himself, squinting, “ha! You see that?”

 

Remus turns around quickly, expecting to see fireworks, or Severus Snape face down in the mud from a prank well done. Instead, he sees a rather unexpected guest.

 

“Elsea Holmes,” Sirius chants. “Merlin bless the minister.”

 

It doesn’t come to Remus immediately, but slowly, then all at once. He’s been set up. Sirius lured him out here with promises of cigarettes and alcohol, just so he can have some kind of awkward meet up with a girl he actually quite likes as a person, but can never pursue. _Fantastic_.

 

“You’re a prick,” Remus spits, shaking his head angrily at Sirius. “You know I _can’t--_ ”

 

“-It’s not for _you_ , idiot.” Sirius cuts him off, incredulous, holding a flask in one hand and a box of cigarettes in the other. “Her friend is fit and she promised she’d set us up. You’re just being my wing man.”

 

Remus tightens his hands into fists, not buying it.

 

“What? C’mon, Remy. She looks really good today. Like _really_ good. Look at her! Tell me you can’t at least pretend to enjoy yourself for a few hours. Just like patrol but under a different context.”

 

_A few hours_. Why does that suddenly do seem so long? Why is he so _nervous_? Probably the under a different context part. And also, what’s with seeing all the girls that he doesn’t want to see today? Remus pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. He hates Hogsmeade now. But he knows there is no getting out of this.

 

Hesitantly, he turns around to get a good look at his pretty much assigned partner for the day.

 

And as much as he hates to admit this - _ever_ \- Sirius is right. Elsea looks bloody fantastic. Her hair is pulled out of her face in a complicated plait, and her eyes look wider and bluer than usual. She’s wearing a beautiful sheepskin coat, most likely ridiculously expensive, and a pair of grey knee socks that lead up her (what Remus can only explain as) _killer_ legs to a short, navy blue skirt.

 

“Shit,” he mutters. He’s absolutely, and totally, _fucked_.

 

He waves as his stomach turns. She, enthusiastic as ever, practically flails back at him.  It’s going to be a long day.   

 

 

-.-

 

 

“I have no idea why I didn’t think of asking you to help with the SAPS campaign from the get-go,” Anya says, practically skipping out of Hogsmeade. “You’re _truly_ brilliant. Hanging the posters at the Shrieking Shack? Why didn’t I think of that?”

 

“Because, my friend,” Elsea says, throwing her arm over Anya’s tiny shoulders, “you don’t think like a smoker.”

 

“Well thank God for you then, I would never get to that sort of place in _my_ lifetime.”

 

Elsea accepts the passive aggressive jab at her habits. It comes with the territory now that somehow (and not with her full consent) she’s become the Vice-President of Anya’s (officially titled and proctored by Albus Dumbledore) anti-drug “S.A.P.S. (Die Roller)” movement. There are four people in the group. Herself, Anya, Archie, and Jason. But Elsea reckons Jason joined as some kind of unfunny joke. And Archie, well, he hasn’t even shown up to one unofficial meeting. He claims he’s “too busy preparing for his Care of Magical Creatures mid-term,” but not even Anya bought that one. Care of Magical Creatures hasn’t had a midterm since Kettleburn started teaching.

 

S.A.P.S., or Students Against Pot Smoking, is annoyingly underway. And Elsea will do anything to slowly, painfully, undermine the entire operation.

 

However, all the meetings, and rants, and lying, and passive aggressive insults, would finally have some sort of benefit. Now, Elsea is able to spend some time with Remus Lupin. Outside of standard prefect business. Or under the influence of ridiculously strong quaaludes, for that matter.

 

Elsea really hopes that it’s worth all this trouble.

 

“Either way,” Elsea says, grinning tightly at Anya, “these posters are gonna really spook them. I can imagine all those potheads dropping their paraphernalia and making a run for it just from the sight.”

 

Anya smiles, nodding confidently. “I know, right?”

 

Not one customer had expressed any concerns about S.A.P.S. to Hadley, Webb, Maddox, or Xavier. In fact, Filch recently tossed a classic Die Roller poster in the bin and reported it to Dumbledore, thinking it was some kind of student prank. Honestly, Elsea thinks it’s mostly because she and Archie are members. They are two of the biggest potheads in school, after all.

 

They move swiftly down the trail toward the Shrieking Shack. Anya, with several posters tucked under her arm, and Elsea, with a certain spring in her step. If Sirius Black holds to his word, he and Remus should be outside the Shack waiting to “bump” into her and Anya.

 

Sure enough, the moment the Shack comes into view, she spots two familiar figures leaning against the building.

 

“Look!”

 

Anya glances up the hill. “Oh, is that…?”

 

“Good lord. Has Remus Lupin ever looked so...well...shaggable?” Elsea mutters to Anya as they hurry up the path.

 

“Uh,” Anya clicks her tongue, “I dunno.”

 

Well, Elsea decides, he hasn’t. In his worn jacket and casual, muggle blue jeans, he looks so _fit_. His hair, which is typically terribly messed up from the way he runs his fingers through it out of habit, is covered in a grey stocking cap.

 

“He’s so _cute_ ,” she mutters to Anya, giggling, before she waves her hand excitedly at him.

 

“He’s alright,” Anya replies. “Archie is cuter, though.”

 

“Ugh, barf, _no_.” Archie may be aesthetically pleasing, but he’s a bloody nightmare personality wise. Remus is the whole package.

 

Elsea is about to snap back at her, but Remus starts _waving_. At her. Oh God. It’s happening.

 

“Elsea that was the most uncool wave I’ve ever seen,” Anya says snidely. “And _I’m_ pretty much the most uncool person I know.”

 

“Try most uncool person at Hogwarts,” Elsea teases, still looking dreamily at Remus.

 

“Hey,” Anya says, but she sounds distant. “Hey, _wait_!”

 

Suddenly there’s an arm blocking her way, nearly knocking the wind out of her.

 

“Anya what _gives_?” Elsea asks, annoyed. Anya rolls her eyes, pointing the the ground.

 

“I’m not letting you destroy your favorite boots because you’re all dazed out over some borderline comatose over-rated _Gryffindor_.” Sure enough, there is a nasty bank of mud between her and Remus. Elsea sighs, annoyed. It may as well been an ocean, at this rate.

 

“I wouldn’t say he’s underrated,” Elsea argues, annoyed. She bounces on her toes, trying to see over Anya’s shoulder at Remus. He and Sirius are taking in hushed voices, and all she wants is to see his handsome face up close. But she can’t, because apparently nature hates her. “There has to be some way to--”

 

“Hmm, let me think of something!” Anya muses in a not-so-compassionate voice. “Oh, I know! How about I just plank across the mud so you can use me as a human bridge? Would that help?”

 

“It would actually.” Elsea flashes her a sickly sweet grin to match her sickly sweet tone. “Please, go on ahead. Better yet, let’s use your posters!”

 

Anya just glowers at her.

 

“Ladies!” Sirius shouts, distracting them. “We’ll come to you. No worries ruining those cute little boots of yours.”

 

Elsea watches as the boys march carefully through the mud towards them. She attempts to look cool, leaning against the fence, as Anya just glares between both parties. For a typically kind person, Anya can get extremely bitchy.

 

“I found that sexist,” Anya mutters to Elsea when Sirius and Remus are just out of earshot.

 

“Oh let it go,” Elsea mumbles. “And _smile_.”

 

On cue, both girls plaster smiles on their faces. By the look of his face, Elsea isn’t sure if Remus is just annoyed about walking through mud, or just displeasured by life all the time. He never looks happy, that guy. Then again, maybe it could just be that he’s unhappy around her. She feels a twinge of pain at that one, and decides to push aside. He’s just a miserable person, that’s all.

 

“Three Broomsticks?” Sirius asks, finally stepping out of the mud. Elsea nods enthusiastically, looking directly at Remus and smiling her best smile. He merely lifts the corner of his mouth. Oh.

 

“No but, _no_.” Anya says, exasperated. Elsea wants to push her. “I can’t.”

 

Sirius panics, his entire face going pale. “What do you _mean_ you can’t?”

 

His voice is strange, and for a moment, his eyes flicker to Elsea’s, full of rage and questions.

 

“She means she can’t yet,” Elsea interjects, before things possibly get any weirder. “You see, we came to hang… posters.”

 

“Posters?” Remus asks. Elsea opens her mouth to explain, but Anya interrupts, timely as always.

 

“For my club. S.A.P.S. You’ve heard of it, right?”

 

Everyone stares blankly; Elsea feels a strong gust of second hand embarrassment.

 

“Students against Pot Smoking?”

 

Sirius barks out in laughter, then freezes when he notices Anya’s expression.

 

“Oh, right. I’ve heard of it.” Sirius mumbles, uncomfortable. “Fantastic organization, Darzi. I reckon you’ll make history.”

 

Anya nods coldly. “It’s Anya.”

 

There’s a long, painfully awkward silence.

 

“Of course, yeah, we can help,” Remus finally offers, kind as always. Elsea feels her heart flutter. Anya can’t _not_ like him now; he’s practically sold his soul to a cause he definitely knows near to nothing about.

 

“Yeah,” Sirius adds, opening his arms. “Lay it on us.”

 

“You sure, _Black_?” Anya raises a brow, smirking. “Because I don’t think this is your type of thing.”

 

“My type of thing?” Sirius echoes, aggressively. He looks around at everyone; as if they should all be egging him on to continue. “Please, the High Roller? I’ve been trying to catch that-- that, _criminal_ , since day one. I even have some leads on who he - or she, who knows, really - actually is.”

 

“Really?” Anya asks, impressed. “What do you have?”

 

“I can tell you,” Sirius pauses, grabbing every poster from Anya’s arms and wrapping them under his, “while we hang these works of art and start making some changes around this hell hole? Am I right?”

 

He doesn’t wait for an answer to continue.

 

“Let’s go.” He starts out, alone, marching through the mud.

 

“Well at least he has his dignity,” Remus says, then he sniffles. “Sort of.”

 

Anya laughs, amused. Elsea feels like something wonderful is happening, seeing the two together. Perhaps Anya and Remus will become friends, maybe give her another leg up. Plus, approval is nice, even if Elsea doesn’t need it.

 

“Okay, Anya, so-” Sirius starts, but he stops short, realizing that he’s the only one who actually walked across the deep well of mud. “ _-fuck_. Right. Your boots.”

 

Elsea covers her face so Sirius doesn’t see her laughing.   


“It’s okay, I got this. I’ll make you a little bridge,” Sirius says, looking around for loose chunks of wood that have fallen from the Shack. He looks around pensively before his eyes land on a small pile, located next to an abandoned wheelbarrow.

 

“Ah, good. Remus, what’s the charm for this sort of thing?”

 

He places the posters on the ground, picking up a chunk of wood.

 

Anya, out of seemingly nowhere, shrieks.

 

“You idiot!” she cries, abandoning her spot on the grass to sprint across the mud. “My posters are all _destroyed_. You ruined every-”

 

“-it’s okay!” Sirius insists, if Elsea didn’t know better, he looked like he might cry from humiliation. She knows she would. “I can fix-”

 

“-Get _out_ of my way,” Anya is fuming, lifting her dirty posters from the ground. “Do not touch _anything_.”

 

Elsea stands there, smirking.

 

“Nice,” she observes, watching them.

 

Remus knocks his shoulder against hers. “Should we go and help them? Or should we let them struggle for a bit longer?”

 

Elsea feels warmth surge through her at his touch. It seems the struggles of both Sirius and Anya have brought them on the same side. She suppresses a giggle when she says, “Might as well help them out. Anya might go bonkers soon.”

 

Remus steps forward, then stops, looking over his shoulder at her. “Wait, is Anya going bonkers something I might want to see?”

 

There’s mischief in his eyes, and Elsea nearly wants to mount him then and there. But she stuffs her hands into her pockets and shakes her head.

 

“God, no.”

 

He smirks at her then turns around. “Alright, let’s help Anya.”

 

“You can,” Elsea says, then pointing at the mud she adds, “I’ll wait here.”

 

As Remus nods agreeably and begins to set out, an idea pops into Elsea’s head.

 

“Oh! Unless you want to carry me, finally.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Remus wags his wand at Elsea as he starts through the mud. “Lifting charm, do I really have to tell you twice?”

 

Sighing, Elsea crosses her arms.  “Yes.”

 

Anya, who has been screeching at a helpless Sirius, watches as Remus casts a cleaning charm on her posters. Elsea, who is already so hot for Remus, nearly topples over as he restores Anya’s posters back to perfection (if you could call them perfect in the first place) and helps her over the mud. What a sweetheart.

 

He rejoins her by the fence a few minutes later, while Sirius follows Anya towards the Shack. He has a pack of cigarettes in his hand, taken from Sirius, and a small flask sticking out of his pocket.

 

“Is that what I think it is?” Elsea asks, nodding at the flask with a grin.

 

“Maybe? What kind of student do you think I am?” Remus pulls it from his pocket and tosses it to her.

 

She catches the flask and unscrews the top, taking a short whiff. The plain vodka makes her choke a bit, but she takes a sip anyway. The liquid burns her throat, of course, but warms her insides and that’s enough.

 

“Mr. Perfect Prefect, obviously.” She tosses it back to him. He takes a bigger sip.

 

“Off duty, remember?”

 

“How could I forget?”

 

Remus smiles and hops up on the fence next her, pulling a cigarette from the pack and handing it to her. She accepts it with a smile, even though there is a perfectly good pack of cigarettes in her own pocket. “Of course, you never really are off duty.” Elsea raises her voice an octave to do her best Lily Evans impression. “ _Once a Prefect, always a Prefect_.”

 

“Oh, if she saw us now.” Remus smirks. “She would lose her fucking mind, I swear.”

 

“I’d pay to see that.”

 

He places a cigarette between his teeth and pulls his wand from his pocket. He lights Elsea’s first, then his own, and they sit there together, taking a long drag, thinking about Lily Evans and her tyrannical Head Girl reign.

 

“You know, I had no idea you smoked,” Elsea says, after a while. Anya and Sirius are out of sight, behind the Shack.

 

“I do, sometimes. Do you think I’m a massive stick in the mud, or something?” Remus asks, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and blowing smoke out in front of him.

 

Honestly, Elsea thinks, a bit.

 

“Maybe. Based on your appearance, yes.”

 

Remus looks down at his shoes. They’re caked so thickly with mud that Elsea can’t even tell their true color. “What’s wrong with my appearance?”

 

“Nothing, you just got a little mud on you.”

 

Remus pretends to look appalled, taking a drag. “Where? I don’t see it.”

 

“It’s like, all over.” Elsea motions towards his body. “Literally.”

 

“Literally?” Remus mocks. “Merlin, I’d better go, you know, take a shower.”

 

Elsea places a hand on his arm, stopping him from leaving the fence. He looks at her, feigning surprise, while she juts out her bottom lip. “Don’t leave me with those two.”

 

“Well you said I was filthy. I can’t possibly enter Hogsmeade looking like a mess.”

 

“You’re not a mess,” she protests, laughing, as he still attempts to get off the fence. “No! Stop!”

 

Remus laughs, falling down and walking forward dramatically toward the path. Elsea laughs even harder, noticing the silly expression on his face. He looks determined to escape her, but still, he keeps looking over his shoulder expectantly.

 

“Wait!” Elsea cries between giggles. “Don’t go!”

 

Remus stops, turning around. He’s standing a few meters away, cigarette dangling between his lips, hands posed on his hips. Elsea giggles even harder when he says, “Oh, you want me to stay?”

 

“For heaven’s sake Remus,” Elsea finally composes herself, “leave if you must. But take me with you. Lifting charm, perhaps?”

 

Remus cocks a grin. “Oh so now you want the lifting charm?”

 

“Always prefer to be carried, but I’ll take it.”

 

Remus sits down, shrugging. “I’ve decided I’m perfect the way I am.”

 

“Well,” Elsea chimes, snaking her hand into his pocket and pulling the flask out, “I wouldn’t say _that_.”

 

She’s so glad he’s warmed up a bit; in fact, this is the best interaction they’ve had in a long time. While their patrols are nothing but polite conversation, it’s just that. Polite. Nothing personal. This, Elsea thinks, is exactly what she wants. Remus is flirting, he’s in a decent mood, _and_ he’s not even insulted her smoking habits.

 

Elsea takes a sip from the flask and hands it back to him. He does the same. “So, where are the rest of your friends?” she asks. “Aren’t you lot, like, inseparable?”

 

“James is on a date with the dictator. Pete’s got detention.”

 

“Oh that’s right,” Elsea recalls, “the toad incident.”

 

He nods.

 

“Sirius is a dick, isn’t he?” Elsea laughs.

 

Remus nods again. “That, he is.”

 

Like clockwork, Sirius and Anya emerge from behind the Shack and back the long way toward the fence. Anya looks a little less peeved, and Sirius looks like his usual cheery self.

 

“Posters hung, check.” Sirius says enthusiastically. “Informed Anya about the High Roller, check.”

 

They pause at the bank of mud.

 

“Want me to carry you?” Sirius asks, waggling his eyebrows.

 

Anya looks homicidal. “I’d rather a lifting charm, thanks.”

 

Elsea and Remus break into hysterics. Sirius looks up at them, annoyed. “You two shut it. You’ve been no help this entire day, bunch of freeloaders.”

 

Anya snorts and does a quick, mad dash across the mud without Sirius.

 

“Oh, _come on_.” He groans. “At the very least we could’ve done this holding hands.”

 

“Never seen him so pathetic,” Remus says quietly to Elsea, “he usually has them in minutes.”

 

“I know that, Anya knows that too, actually,” Elsea whispers as the others approach them. “That’s why it’ll never happen. Anya is the gossip queen of Ravenclaw. You have no idea the things she knows.”

 

Remus catches her eye and smirks. “With Sirius, that’s gotta be a lot of shit.”

 

Elsea agrees. “Pretty brutal.”

 

-.-

 

A close to half hour later, the four of them are sitting at a small, corner table in the crowded Three Broomsticks. Across the bar is James and Lily, sitting with Frank and Alice, sharing a round of butterbeers and snacks. Two Slytherin boys next to them have been arguing since they’ve gotten there. Remus has been watching them, curiously, wondering when they’ll start throwing unforgivables.

 

It hasn’t happened.

 

 

Elsea is sitting close to him, resting on her elbows and giggling at some joke he’d made. He can’t help it, he’s having a _good time._ Maybe it’s the presence of Anya and Sirius, who are amusing to say the least, or maybe it’s just that he’s realized he and Elsea really do get on well, and maybe they can be friends.

 

Just friends.

 

Who flirt a little.

 

(Well, seeing as how their day is going, friends who flirt _a lot_.)

 

“--that’s why,” Sirius continues, mid-rant, “the High Roller has got to be Ricky Maddox.”

 

Elsea rolls her eyes. “Please! Maddox doesn’t have the passion for that.”

 

“No!” Sirius smacks his hand on the table. “I’m certain. Hey, you’re friends with them. What do you think?”

 

Elsea blinks at him, shaking her head. “Just because I smoke, Black, doesn’t mean I know who the High Roller is. I buy from Maddox, just like you. Just like nearly everyone.”

 

“Exactly. That’s why it’s him, Holmes.”

 

Elsea rolls her eyes, and Remus understands her pain on a spiritual level.

 

Anya, who thus far has been rather quiet, stands up suddenly. “I’m peeing.”

 

“Right now?” Sirius jokes. “That’s not sanitary.”

 

If looks could kill, Sirius would be dead twelve times over.

 

“I’m-” she starts to explain herself, but gives up. Her shoulders drop and she wallows on out, heading towards the back of the bar. When she’s leaving, Remus spots Archie Blackwater at table with the same Chinese girl from before, probably the current flavor of the month, sharing a butterbeer and laughing.

 

Anya puts her head down when she passes them.

 

He puts a mental note to inconspicuously ask Elsea about it later. Then he scratches that idea, because honestly, he hardly cares.

 

“James is waving us over,” Sirius says, breaking the silence Remus didn’t even realize they fell into. “Remus.”

 

Remus turns his head simultaneously with Elsea, looking at James waving his arms wildly and Lily with a hardly amused scowl on her face. She’s looking directly at Elsea.

 

Remus feels a pang of annoyance. Well. If that’s how she feels.

 

“You go ahead, Padfoot,” Remus says. “We’ll stay here.”

 

He’s going to make it worse.

 

“You sure?” Sirius looks surprised, but stands up anyway. “Okay. Have fun, you two.”

 

Elsea shifts in her chair at his side. Remus grins wolfishly up at him. “Oh, we _will_.”

 

He can almost hear her buzzing, buzzing with questions, as he turns to face Elsea again. “Okay, so basically, James is a prick.”

 

Elsea grins, her eyes lighting with mischief. “So we’re fucking with them?”

 

“Lily Evans thinks we shouldn’t be friends, you and me.” At that, Remus slings his arm around the back of her chair. “She thinks you’re a bad influence.”

 

Elsea seems to _love_ this. “Does she?” She leans in closer. “God that’s delicious. I’m a bad influence, Remus. I’m corrupting you.”

 

“Yes, yes, you are, apparently.”

 

“Great.” Elsea reaches down, biting her lip and squeezing his knee. “Is this the plan?”

 

“Yeah, keep close,” Remus says. He feels hot all over, but he’s been in situations like this before, so he can handle himself. “She’s gonna _hate_ it, Merlin, I can’t stand her.”

 

It’s an over exaggeration, but right now, he can’t stand Lily. Up on her high horse, judging everyone below her. The Head Girl position has really gone to her head.

 

From the corner of his eye he notices her glancing at the two of them, a pained expression on her face. _Good_ , he thinks. _Perfect_.

 

Elsea nods her head. “Alright. But why?” she asks. “Didn’t you like her before?”

 

Her voice is low, her tone undeniably sexy. Remus can’t believe they’re talking about something so unappealing as his stupid petty friend drama this way.

 

“I was okay with her. We kind of study together, because my friends are,” Remus leans into whisper in her ears, “ _idiots_ , you know.”

 

Elsea pulls her head away, their faces are inches apart, but not close enough to touch. “I’ve heard. But what’d she do?”

 

Remus could really just kiss her right now. She’s so close, and she’s so welcoming. He knows she wants him to, everything about her body, from the look in her eyes to her hand on his knee tell him that. And the tugging in his stomach, well, that’s not helping much either.

 

But he can’t kiss her. That would be crossing a line.

 

“It’s more what James did, really.” His voice comes out a bit breathy, but he barrels on through. “He told Lily a bunch of shit he shouldn’t have. You know, the type of stuff you keep between friends.”

 

“Right.” Elsea twirls a strand of blonde hair around her finger and looks up at him, big brown eyes misty. She seems to genuinely understand, too. _Merlin, she’s so cute_ , he thinks.

 

“Like, he told her about _you_. And the ludes. How could you do something like that? It’s so- it’s _not_ his place.”

 

Elsea pulls a face. “He did?” she rasps. “He _is_ a prick.” She looks genuinely annoyed at this, the fact that James told the Head Girl about her extracurricular activities. Remus, who doesn’t exactly approve of Elsea doing ludes on the regular, still wouldn’t have told _Lily,_ of all people.

 

The hand on Remus’ knee feels incredibly heavy, for a moment. He realizes that they’ve just been staring at each other, thoughtfully, barely an inch apart. Elsea’s breath is hot on his cheek, her nails tapping a strange pattern on his jeans. God, the tugging his stomach is stronger now, and he knows that he needs to get out of this situation soon.

 

He’s buried himself in too deep.

 

“Okay we’re good now,” he chokes out, stiffening in his seat and leaning away from her. He grabs at his butterbeer and downs the rest of it in one big gulp. From the corner of his eye he can see Elsea look confused, then fall back into her seat. “Sorry.”

 

He isn’t really sure what he’s sorry about, now. Leading her on, or the ludes thing. To be honest, he thinks, he’s probably sorry about both.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *karate kicks* there ya go all u anya/sirius shippers.... though we have to say we enjoyed writing the remus/elsea bits A LITTLE TOO MUCH. your comments are SO FREAKIN' APPRECIATED. tell us what you think, or head over to our tumblrs (wizardweed, jonathanlows) and let us know what u think about the gang...what u think is gonna happen.... how much u freakin LOVE james potter
> 
> all of those
> 
> <3333


	8. Highway To Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s with all the tension? Can’t we all just get along and catch the High Roller together?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you for all the wonderful comments! We are so thrilled and really excited for you guys to see where this all goes! Can't believe we're already at chapter 8! Yeeeeeee.
> 
> Enjoy!

Elsea almost never lets anyone other than Archie into her greenhouse. Well, it’s not technically _her_ greenhouse; it’s the property of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but it might as well be hers. There's just something about those sticky hot rooms with enchanted, lifelike greenery that gives Elsea a sense of ownership, of comfort. Almost like a bit of an extension of herself, really. Besides, no one has special permission and a set of keys to the place besides Professor Sprout and Elsea, and no one, except Elsea and Archie, know what’s hidden in Greenhouse Seven.

 

She keeps this top secret information from her dealers as well. Everything is hidden in notebooks filled with math equations and predictions, secrets of her spells and enchantments, and of course, the location of her stash. She can’t trust those filthy little buggers farther than she can throw them, which with her scrawny chicken arms, isn’t far. Which is why, Elsea thinks, as she digs her hands into the soil of a puffpod plant, it was rather clever of her to have Archie take the dealers to Greenhouse Four. Her secret is still safe and sound. And her wellbeing is at the best its been since she’s arrived this term.

 

Finishing up an assignment for Professor Sprout is almost therapeutic after the days of hectic stress Elsea’s endured. It eases her mind, allows her to think of something other than her rambling thoughts, which spin from the war, to her Defense Against the Dark Arts midterm exam, to Remus Lupin.

 

So she breathes and digs her hands into the potted soil, taking delicate care that everything is in place.

 

“Knock knock,” Archie is leaning in the doorway, his dark hair styled short and neat, and his blue and silver tie hung loose around his neck, “everyone is in order, boss.”

 

Elsea looks back down at her plant and finishes setting the seeds in place. Her mouth is pulled tight, concentrating, and a single strand of honey blonde hair falls out of her clip and into her eyes. She blows at it absentmindedly, a sight of Elsea Holmes that is far too human and far too innocent for most of the world to see. Sometimes she unravels in front of Archie, not much, but just barely. Just enough for him to see the cool and calculated exterior of a teenage drug lord shift a bit, revealing the sweet eighteen year old girl with more than enough burdens on her feminine shoulders.

 

“Need any help with that?” asks Archie. Elsea knows the offer is genuine, however, considering Archie is about as good at herbology as he is on picking up on Anya’s subtle “please love me” hints, she thinks it would be best to politely decline.

 

“Fuck no.” she says, pulling her hands away and strolling to the sink, where she runs water and scrubs the dirt from her hands and underneath her fingernails. For a girl who spends an awful lot of time with her hands dirty, she always has impeccably clean fingernails.

 

She dries her hands slowly and glances over her shoulder. “You ready?”

 

Archie’s easy smile pulls her away from her serious thoughts and to the task at hand. Her face shifts from concentration to friendliness, as she pulls her hair from the clip and lets it fall along her shoulders in messy strands. 

 

“Everything is all set up.” Archie looks like a third year entering Honeydukes for his first time. “I’ve never been more excited in my life.”

 

Elsea snickers. “Well, not since this morning when you found out there’s a possibility of the Giant Squid being a _chick._ You were pretty damn excited about that.”

 

“Look, there is literally zero evidence in the contrary. I dunno what sort of genitalia squid have, but I reckon it’s big. Massive. So if the Giant Squid doesn’t have a flopping cock, it’s gotta have a massive, gaping vagina. And I haven’t seen a massive flopping cock, have you?”

 

Elsea scoffs and stalks back to the small closet at the side of the greenhouse. The false back wall she had conjured up two years ago is pushed aside, and the artificial lamps with her precious product plants underneath sit untouched. Below is a shelf that contains two cauldrons and a petri dish, which has four purple pills sitting on it.

 

“What do you reckon we should name these?” she asks as she pulls a tiny plastic baggie from her pocket and places the four pills inside. The shiny gold crown of the High Roller symbol sparkles under the lamp.

 

“Happy pills.” Archie has moved farther into the greenhouse and is currently peering over her shoulder. “Chill pills, maybe.”

 

“You know, for a Ravenclaw, you have shockingly terrible ideas.”

 

“Oh, _okay_.” Archie raises his arms in the air in defeat. “It’s not like you asked for my opinion or anything.”

 

“You’re right. I’m the one with the bad ideas. You win!”

 

Archie grins and reaches over her shoulder to grab at a leaf of her leftmost plant. Elsea, quick as always, smacks his hand away.

 

“No touching, you filthy animal.”

 

“Elsea, listen to yourself. That’s some nasty foreplay dirty talk you’ve got going.”

 

Elsea rolls her eyes as she drops the baggie into the pocket of her jacket and follows him out the door, locking the greenhouse door carefully.

 

“They didn’t follow you out here, right?” she asks, giving an inquisitive look around. The grounds are empty, it’s not past curfew but it’s also quite chilly this time of year. No other students would bother with the weather when there are warm fireplaces to be cuddled up next to.

 

It’s just that time of year when the love bug starts to bite, and Elsea saw no less than five new couples snogging in the corridors earlier that day. She also gave no less than three couples detentions for it. It’s good being a prefect; even more so if you’re constantly bitter.

 

Archie just smirks. “No worries, I locked them in. And unless Hadley or Webb can overpower Maddox, I think we’re good.”

 

Elsea cringes fearfully.

 

“You put too much faith in Maddox.”

 

“I do not.”

 

“Hadley is a first string bludger.”

 

“Okay well it’s hard _not_ to, when he’s got a face like that,” Archie says, pretending to swoon. “And that Irish accent. Like a leprechaun.”

 

“Cool it.” Elsea struts in front of him, crossing the empty yard in a half sprint to Greenhouse Four. “If something happened to my number one seller because of you, you’re responsible for picking up all of his customers.”

 

Archie shivers as he catches up to her side. “God, no. You know I couldn’t sell my liver if I tried.”

 

“Well of course you couldn’t, your liver would probably give the poor buyer immediate alcohol poisoning. It’s probably illegal.”

 

“As illegal as your entire enterprise, perhaps? Swallow that, _Madame High Roller_.”

 

“With pleasure, _Archibald_.”

 

Elsea shoves the door to the greenhouse open. It appears to her that it was never locked.

 

“Oops,” Archie mutters lowly. “Well, I tried.”

 

“Team!” Elsea rasps, her voice echoes through the spacious room, the buzzing voices of her employees slowing to a stop. She’s chosen to ignore the fact that Archie is a wanker of astronomical proportions; it’s not the time or place for unnecessary rage. Besides, she’ll hit him upside the head and/or humiliate him at some point in the future. “Welcome to the third annual product testing night!”

 

Maddox folds his arms over his chest and flashes one of his lazy grins. “Don’t remember have a free product testing night last year.”

 

“No new products last year,” Elsea states matter-of-factly, strolling into the greenhouse as Archie shuts the door behind them. This time, she watches from the corner of her eye as he locks it from the inside. “First time, we had weed. Second time, we had _my_ weed. Now, _this_ _year_ , we have something even _more_ special.”

 

There’s a meager showing of snacks and drinks on a cleared off work bench in the back of the greenhouse. She had to pay Archie to sneak into the kitchens and wrestle up some refreshments. The payment was only because Archie, despite his pureblood upbringing, is deathly afraid of House Elves. And the Hogwarts kitchens, which bolster nearly two hundred House Elves, is one of his worst nightmares. Elsea likes to send him there just for fun, sometimes.

 

The room falls silent in anticipation. Elsea, strolling to the center of the room, puts in her hand in her pocket and picks out the four ludes.

 

“Is it cocaine?” Webb asks. Elsea drops the pills back into her pocket in order to put her hands on her hips for dramatic effect. She’s read more than a few articles on how to look menacing and incite fear upon your superiors. This is only one of the many intimidating gestures in her arsenal.

 

“Excuse me? What kind of establishment do you think I’m running?” Elsea scoffs. “ _Cocaine_. You’re mental.”

 

She decides to stop wasting time and pulls the ludes out for the group to see. Everyone, even Archie, stares at the palm in her hand in amazement.

 

“What are those?” Hadley asks, raising her freshly manicured hand to touch one. Elsea smirks, closing her palm abruptly and snapping it away. Hadley, who is still wearing her uniform and looking more like an innocent school girl than a moderately-skilled drug dealer, frowns.

 

“Not cocaine,” Webb repeats. He sounds slightly disappointed.

 

“ _No_. Quaaludes.”

 

Elsea waits, staring at the group expectantly. When no one speaks for an embarrassingly long amount of time, she sighs. Should’ve known her audience. As if a group of burnout, half-wit, really quite shitty drug dealers would be able to react properly to, well, _anything_.

 

“They’re like Happy Pills,” Archie explains, finally breaking the awkward tension. But that’s not what Elsea wants to hear.

 

“No. They’re not. They slow down cognitive and motor functions - cause a slight increase in the likelihood of sexual arousal, increases visual and kinesthetic--”

 

She stops again, she’s pretty sure Xavier is drooling.

 

“- you know what? Just try one. Each of you. Take one. That’s what this night is about, right? Let’s just test.”

 

Webb, Maddox, and Xavier reach zealously to receive and swallow their purple pills. Hadley stares, her eyes hard and cold, waiting for more with the pill sitting stagnant in the center of her palm. The smarter the dealer, the more annoying to deal with, Elsea has learned.

 

“Hadley.” Elsea starts delicately, even smiling. “Take the damn pill, please. I have places to be.”

 

She’s still frowning, severe features looking even more severe than usual, and rolling it around in her open hand. “Fine. But I might not swallow it.”

 

“ _Hadley-_ ”

 

“I’ll watch. I’ll babysit these fucks while you’re out doing… whatever. Trust me, you’ll need someone to. And your lapdog Maddox already dry swallowed his.”

 

She is right, dammit, as much as Elsea hates to admit it. A babysitter would be a nice idea, actually. Of course it sort of damages the use of Hadley, being that she is the only one female subject in the entire experiment. It’s too late to fix now, anyway. She glances at Archie, looking for support, but he merely shrugs and points to the large, gold watch face (it’s new, Archie wouldn’t quit going on about his big gift from Aunt Maggie) on his wrist. They’ve got to go.

 

“Fine,” Elsea sighs, “but you have to try it another time. I need a female test subject.”

 

“You need _me_ ,” Hadley teases, laughing. Elsea wonders why she ever allowed such a nasty human being into her inner circle. She gives Hadley one of her colder glares, something that could kill a man. A glare that, Elsea assumes, has earned her the nickname Bitch Face, and has inflicted deep terror in the hearts of many. The laughter ceases almost musically. “I mean... _Okay_. I’ll just do it tomorrow,” she adds in a bitter tone, “ _your majesty_.”

 

Elsea continues to glare.

 

“But if my grades suffer from it, you better find a way to pay me back,” Hadley blurts, shaking her head.

 

“I promise nothing. Let’s go, Archie,” Elsea says, starting towards the door. “Have fun babysitting.”

 

Just as she shuts the screen door behind her, Elsea hears Webb begin to sing The Star Spangled Banner out of tune. She smiles coyly at Archie, who laughs, knowingly.

 

They hurry out off the grounds, not before Elsea casts a well-practiced locking charm on the door. Archie shouts at her that they’re not only late, but _fifteen minutes_ late. That constitutes a public execution by Anya. With genuine terror looming closer and closer, they race up the grounds and back towards the castle.

 

“I tried to make it as short as possible!” Elsea snaps at Archie as they barrel into the Great Hall. “It was all _Hadley’s_ stubborn fault.” The third ever S.A.P.S., or Students Against Pot Smoking, meeting was scheduled for nearly twenty minutes prior. Anya, who had been reminding them literally all day of its date, time, and location, had been rather adamant that neither of them arrive late. And things aren’t looking promising for any timeliness.

 

“Well Merlin’s beard Holmes!” Archie shouts and they hurry up the staircases. Elsea prays that they won’t change on them, not now. “Sometimes it’s like you love the sound of your own voice!”

 

“Oh that’s absolutely _rich_ ,” she snaps back, “coming from _you!_ ”

 

“Me?” Archie gasps. “What are you implying?”

 

They’re running up the stairs two at a time now. Above them, Elsea can see the staircase, the crucial one to get to the fourth floor classroom they’re meeting in, shift towards the fifth floor. Archie nearly knocks over a second year girl who already has tears in her eyes. He doesn’t bother to apologize.

 

“I’m implying that you’re a massive wanker, obviously!”

 

“I’m not a wanker, you’re a _narcissist_!”

 

“Narcissist? Please stop inflicting your self-reflections on my back, _please_. It’s _laughable_.”

 

Their bickering continues as they manage to hop a staircase that leads to the fourth floor corridor. Elsea has elbowed Archie in the ribs twice, and Archie has ruffled her hair at least three times.

 

“Ah, a lover’s quarrel I see?”

 

It takes everything in Elsea not to faint on spot.

 

The breathtaking, unusual sight of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore appears almost as if an apparition. He looms in the doorway, with his achingly long beard, peering down at them through his half-moon spectacles. Elsea has never personally spoken to the headmaster before, nor been this close to him. And judging by the shocked look on Archie’s face, neither has he.

 

“What?” Elsea croaks, losing her composure and frantically pushing her hair away from her face. “I mean, oh God, no! Archie and I, lovers? Oh God. No. No.”

 

“No,” Archie adds spaceily, but nods his head. He doesn’t even look like he knows where he is at this point.

 

Dumbledore laughs wholeheartedly, gazing down at the two of them like they’ve just told a fantastic joke. “I find that discussion over a nice couple of tea really sorts these things out. Nonetheless, are you off to the meeting, then? Miss Darzi is most enthusiastic about her cause, I must say. Even more about your support.”

 

“Yeah,” Elsea says, she realizes then that she’s out of breath as a loose hair falls back into her eyes. Never should have taken her bloody clip out. “We just... we were just getting there.”

 

“Late?” Dumbledore asks. He doesn’t look quite as jolly. Watery blue eyes gaze down at her expectantly.

 

“We were studying,” Archie lies, poorly, as usual. “Herbology. In the greenhouses. Well, I went and met Elsea there. She’d been doing some work for Professor Sprout. Right, El?”

 

Elsea nods hurriedly.

 

Dumbledore raises his eyebrows a fraction of a centimeter.

 

“Seven?”

 

Elsea feels her whole body jump into panic mode.

 

“I-- _yeah_ ,” she confesses reluctantly.

 

“Four actually.” Archie attempts a casual shrug. He looks robotic at best.

 

“Oh, I see you’re changing things up then, Miss Holmes,” Dumbledore says, folding his hands together over his emerald robes. “I’m looking forward to seeing whatever you’ve been working so meticulously on in the greenhouses all year.”

 

Archie opens his mouth to speak again but Elsea cuts in, knowing that she, without a doubt, has to do this alone.

 

“It’s nothing big. Just, you know, experimental stuff.” She keeps her voice light and easy, like she’s recalling some inconsequential detail of her day to a close friend.

 

“Stuff? Such a broad term, you’ll have to elaborate on that.”

 

Elsea sucks in a breath of air so sharp she nearly chokes. “Um…” she stumbles on her words, “worked on some puffpods for Professor Sprout this evening…”

 

“Here, brought some,” Archie says, stuffing his hand into his pocket and pulling out two puffpods. Elsea nearly leaps on top of Archie in relief. He actually pulled through for her. He’s actually prepared.

 

However, Dumbledore speaks again and relinquishes them from their quasi-interrogation.

 

“Another time we can discuss this further, perhaps. You’re terribly late. Miss Darzi will not be pleased.”

 

Archie nods fervently. “No, she will not. But it’s been a great chat, Headmaster, sir. Really nice!”

 

He’s got a hive, a visible one right on his wrist. Elsea grabs at it, yanking him away. “Yes! I’ll show you sometime soon, when I have something worthwhile to show. Yes! See you around!”

 

But even as she yanks Archie down the corridor, and he whines that she’s breaking his watch, there’s something in the Headmaster’s sparkling eyes that makes Elsea realize her secret may not be as much of a secret as she thought.

 

-.-

 

 

“Remus?” James whispers loudly. “Remus, I have a question.”

 

Remus holds a steady finger to his lips, crouching by the side of a tall, hollow knight. Before, when they’d arrived, James had nearly toppled into the suits of armor, causing a loud ruckus and a show of Remus’ quick reflexes. And because they have impeccable luck, apparently, no one spotted them.

 

The reason for their hide-out is a long awaited, expertly planned prank on James’ sworn enemy, Severus Snape. “It’s been too long,” Sirius had said, approximately four hours before James and Remus headed out to execute his plan. “I’m busy pursuing a lady, but you guys should definitely try _this_ one out.”

 

James protested at first, being that Lily quite recently went on a rant about just how immature their whole prank war with Slytherin had become. But, since James has always been one for pyrotechnics, all it took was Sirius’ bring up the term “explosives,” and there was no stopping him. Nothing like James Potter and a bit of fireworks. Remus, however, was just bored enough to go along with it.

 

“But _Remus--_ ”

 

“Shut up James.”

 

“It’s important.”

 

Ever since Remus had dropped the whole “your dick is small” bomb on James, he hasn’t been left alone. It’s been nothing but insecure question after insecure question. _Is my hair too long, Moony? Does the shirt make my nipples look weird, Moony? What about my shoes, Moon Man? What do you think about hats, Moonie Roonie Doo?_ James has always been someone who, despite his brash behavior, really does want everyone to like him. And since Remus seemed to no longer approve, he began to overcompensate.

 

And it’s been driving Remus up a wall, frankly. At this point, he is about three seconds from losing his damn mind. He isn’t even mad at James anymore, he just wants all this bloody madness to end.

 

“I’m gonna ask you anyway,” James says, his voice is verging on shouting. Remus has forgotten how needlessly reckless James is during pranks. He lives on the edge of danger, balancing on the thin line of risk and a well-earned death wish. “Are you… I don’t know, upset? Or something?”

 

Remus sighs. “We have exploding confetti that smells like frog piss in our pockets - which, as you well know, would get us a month’s detention if we were caught with it - and you’re asking me if I’m upset with you?”

 

James stares blankly, and then nods his head. “Yeah, pretty much.”

 

His glasses are slightly askew on his face, and his hair, which is typically quite messy, is sticking out in at least fifteen directions. There are dark bags underneath his eyes and, even more, he smells a bit, since he had skipped his after-Quidditch-training-shower for this exact prank.

 

“I’m not fucking talking about this now,” Remus rasps, lowering his voice to remind James to lower his, for once. He feels himself growing a bit pouty, because yes, he is a bit upset. And yes, talking about it would be a good thing, probably. But Remus isn’t about to go sit down in a dark corridor with his best mate and talk about _feelings_. That’s just silly.

 

“Why not?” James asks, the corner of his mouth twitching. “What’s a better time?”

 

“I don’t _know,_ will you please be-”

 

Remus freezes at the sound of heavy shoes, stomping carelessly through the hallway. It’s him. It’s gotta be.

 

The boys crouch like hunters, bent down and peeking through the legs of the Knight. Snape is walking - well, strutting, really - through the corridor, clueless. His nose is buried in a copy of a Potions textbook and he’s writing up a storm, hands moving furiously.

 

“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to write in those…”

 

“James. _Shh_.”

 

“See! You’re all angsty. Why are you so touchy lately? I’m just trying to-”

 

“Good fucking grief James, he is literally a few steps away from us, for once in your bloody life realize it is _NOT_ about you.”

 

James grins. “Ah, ha!”

 

Snape stops walking.

 

James frowns. “Ah, shit.”

 

The two of them straighten up to their full height, which is, for both boys, far taller than Snape.

 

“Potter? What are you-” Snape starts, but stops once he sees Remus standing by his side with his hands tucked into his pockets. “ _-Oh_.”

 

“Oh what, Snape?” Remus asks, his voice is cool and even and casual. Despite his lack of a sadistic streak that the rest of his friends have, Remus is by far the best during a prank. Maybe it’s because he can step back and assess the situation, while James dives in head first and Sirius looks for creative genius, Peter is the small, quick on his feet wildcard. Remus is practical.

 

“Nothing, I just,” Snape’s usual sneer turns into a cold, unforgiving smirk, “thought you might’ve been more discreet about, you know, whatever is clearly going on here.”

 

“Clearly going… on?” James echoes in mock confusion. Remus’ jaw shifts. Verbally humiliating Snape is never as clean as executing the perfect prank. However, it is just as satisfying, especially when he gets the last word.

 

“Can’t two best mates share a sweet study spot in an abandoned corridor that only you ever seem to walk down?” James stuffs his hands into his pocket and looks pleasantly at Snape.

 

Snape’s eyes narrow. “I don’t see any books.”

 

“You know what? You were right. We were just studying anatomy. Of each other’s body. You were totally right, I can’t believe you caught me and Moony snogging for a _second time_.” James sighs, exasperated, looking at Remus. “We gotta find better hiding spots, baby.”

 

“Shut up, James,” Remus says. He’s not in the mood. He’s also not really in the mood to fight anyone, considering he’s wasted just about all of his insults on James these past few weeks. “You’re lucky you looked over here, or you would’ve smelt like frog piss for three weeks.”

 

Snape looks insulted. “Was that a threat, Lupin?”

 

“Maybe,” Remus seethes, looking him cold in the eye. “And _maybe_ I’m still very much so capable of achieving that last thing I said. So I’d fuck off, pal.”

 

Snape stands his ground for a moment, swallows, and tightens his fingers fiendishly around his textbook. “So that was a threat.”

 

“ _Fuck_ off.”

 

In his pocket, Remus’ fingers curl around the ball of frog piss. It would only take just a quick toss and the entire shell would explode on Snivellus’ greasy, acne-ridden skin. With the day he’s had, he could really use the satisfaction of wiping Snape’s smirk right off his face.

 

Not an idiot (entirely), Snape looks down at Remus’ arm, his eyes following the trail to his clearly full pocket. He takes a step back, his smile transparent as he reaches towards his belt.

 

“Touch that wand Snivellus and you’ll smell like frog piss for _six weeks_ ,” James threatens. He wiggles his eyebrows and flicks his own wand around in the air for added effect.

 

Remus glares at him, out of habit really, and turns back to the target.

 

“I’m leaving,” Snape says, voice strained. “But this isn’t over.”

 

“Okay, dramatic git,” Remus fires back.

 

As Snape slowly walks backward, he keeps his eyes trained on James, who is far too reckless to actually trust. Remus feels a slight strain to go back on his word and plaster him head to toe with frog piss, but he fights it away.

 

“Don’t worry Sniv,” James calls out to him as Snape approaches the corner, “we’ll save these for another time. Cheers!”

 

When Snape’s footsteps fade out of earshot, Remus drops his hand from his pocket and sighs. “Well, Padfoot will be disappointed.”

 

“Nah,” James shakes his head, tucking his wand into his robes, “he’ll be glad to take this one on himself. Besides, he’s got a better arm than you, Moon. Even with all that muscle building you’ve had.”

 

He squeezes Remus’ upper arm and grins. Remus, who feels all his anger slowly slipping away, grins back at him.

 

“What should we do now?” James asks, as they head back down the corridor towards the grand staircase. “Lily is busy. Some dumb anti-drug meeting.”

 

Remus is immediately filled with anger again at the mere sound of the name ‘Lily.’

 

“Dunno.” He begins to walk faster. James makes a pained noise and begins to pick up his pace, lightly jogging by his side.

 

“Damn. Don’t you run fast? Those long legs, they do a lot for you, don’t they?”

 

“Yup.” Remus pops the ‘p,’ just for emphasis.

 

“I’m...” James is panting. “I’m - hold _on_.”

 

Remus attempts to hide a smirk.

 

“I’m gonna-“ James slows to a stop, throwing his hands to the side in preparation for a tantrum. “Oh come off it, Remus, at least tell me what I _did_.”

 

Remus stops, half wanting to laugh, half wanting to run away and bury his nose in a book and avoid all conversation. But he supposes he owes James this, at least. He’s been dragging him along for a week or so now, and, well, even Remus gets tired of it.

 

“Prongs,” he starts, awkwardly, before catching his breath. “I...um, well, you see… what you did…”

 

“Moony,” James sighs as they start up the stairs, “I know it’s not exactly your area, you know, _sharing your feelings_ , but fucking man up and do it, yeah?”

 

Remus glowers at him. “Excuse me?”

 

James smirks. “Open up, man.” He pinches Remus’s side, and Remus squirms away at his touch. Another thing Remus isn’t fond of, unneeded touching. Another thing James is majorly fond of, of course.

 

“Fine,” Remus coughs, looking away from James. How does he put this, exactly? “I...well...you told Lily about Elsea.”

 

“I...” James’ face twists in confusion. “I did what?”

 

Remus’ mouth falls into a thin line. “You told Lily that Elsea was on ludes in the common room.”

 

James expression changes about six times, a telltale sign that he has really no idea what to say. They’ve stopped at the top of the seventh floor staircase and are facing one another.

 

“And you also told her about how to sneak into the kitchens,” Remus adds, just because he feels like he can now. He lowers his voice a bit and says, “What’s the deal with that? With all of it? What’s next? You gonna tell Lily that I’m a werewolf in the Shrieking Shack?”

 

“I just, I would _never.”_ James is clearly panicked, overwhelmed by - well, confrontation. Remus waits. “Remus, I didn’t mean it… negatively. I just kind of tell her things sometimes. She’s my girlfriend and I love her and all that crap, you know? It’s not like she’s told anyone. Besides you, that is. It’s not hurting anyone.”

 

“Not hurting anyone? I’ve got Lily going around trying to tell me that Elsea Holmes is _trouble_ and _bad for me_ , as if I’m her little brother or something. Fucking drives me up the wall, Prongs.” Remus can’t stop; he’s on a roll now. “If you decide to tell her stuff about my life, why don’t you tell her try and not get herself involved first?”

 

“She does it good naturedly! She only cares about us, okay?”

 

“I don’t need Lily Evans _caring_ about me. I can take care of myself, and I’ve got Peter and Sirius and even you, for Merlin’s sake. You guys do enough caring for me. Please, make her stop.”

 

“What am I supposed to say to her? _Hey Lily Pad, fair maiden, so, uh, Remus told me today that you annoy the shit out of him and you’re bossy and nosey. So can you like, I don’t know, leave him the fuck alone_?”

 

Remus nods. “Pretty much.”

 

They stare at each other for a moment, silent.

 

Then James’ face cracks into an infectious grin. He reaches forward and clasps Remus’ shoulder and shakes him around a bit. “Don’t worry, my friend, I’ll figure it out.” He turns to head back to the Gryffindor common room, then stops. “Oh, and, I’m sorry, by the way.”

 

“It’s okay,” Remus laughs, “just cool it with the touching.”

 

James’ mouth quirks up into a smirk. “Ah, but you love physical affection!”

 

-.-

 

The entire makeup of the Students Against Pot Smoking, is, in itself, an absolute joke. As Elsea and Archie had entered the room, nearly twenty minutes late into the meeting, they’d spotted the motley crew. Which contains, hysterically enough, three of the biggest pot smokers in the entire school. Jason, the Hufflepuff, sat near the window, a dazed look in his eyes. Archie, who plopped himself down on a table near the dear and finally, Elsea, who sat next to him, tucks her legs underneath her girlishly.

 

Anya stands in the middle of a circle of tables, with Lily Evans sat on the outside of the circle, on the professor’s desk. Sirius Black stands off to the side, leaning against the blackboard as he thought it gave the rest of the room the best view of his top notch physique. Mary MacDonald is slouched back in her chair, with her shiny black boots resting on the table. Frank Longbottom and Alice Hackney are sitting at a table next to Archie and Elsea, fingers linked under the table.

 

Overall, pretty weak turnout.

 

Elsea’s second thought, however is: _what the hell is Lily Evans doing here?_

 

“Archie,” Elsea elbows him in the ribs, ten minutes after they arrive. He looks up from biting his nails, dazed. “Archie, Lily Evans is here. What the fuck is Lily Evans doing here?”

 

He shrugs, returning to his nails.

 

“Archie, what the fuck?”

 

“Relax,” Archie says, voice muffled by his incessant chewing. “She’s probably trying to get in on the cause. Good for Anya.”

 

“ _Good for Anya_.” Elsea repeats the phrase spitefully, then rips Archie’s arm away from his mouth. “Get your dirty fingers out of your mouth you creature.”

 

Archie only scowls at her, angling his body away and biting on the nails on his other hand, which is just barely out of Elsea’s reach.

 

She folds her arms over her chest, surveying the room, bored. Anya has always been extremely difficult to listen too. Not that she isn’t smart, or funny, or a charming girl - she’s just a little boring. And her voice is so painfully _quiet_. Elsea wishes she would use a megaphone, or at least stand on a soap box.

 

“Psst.” Elsea hears from across the room. “ _Psst_.”

 

It’s Sirius Black.

 

“ _Psst_. Elsea Holmes. Holmes skilly biscuit.”

 

Archie glares at Sirius for Elsea. She decides she’s lucky to have him around, someone who practically feels her emotions for her. It’s a lot less work.

 

“Elsea,” Sirius continues. “ _Elsea_.”

 

“Elsea,” Archie says, he looks at her, brows furrowed. “Why the fuck are you talking to Sirius Black?”

 

Elsea, strange as it is it, has noticed that Sirius Black is one of the few things that Archie absolutely cannot stand. He claims it has something to do with a silly quidditch rivalry, but then will rant on about how he has the personality of plywood and that he probably spends most of his day staring at himself admirably in any giving reflection.

 

Admittedly, Elsea finds this all incredibly amusing, considering the fact that Archie is practically Sirius’ Ravenclaw counterpart. But she’d never tell him that.

 

“I’m not, obviously,” Elsea whispers. “He’s talking to me.”

 

Archie scoffs before scoffing around the room insecurely. “Well make him stop. He’s making us look bad.”

 

“There are barely any important people in this room, Archie. I honestly doubt none of them care if Sirius Black is talking to m-”

 

“Elsea Holmes?” A voice chirps from the front of the room.

 

Elsea refocuses her eyes to the small, wooden chair, placed (most likely intentionally) right behind the professors desk. Once she catches sight of the fiery red hair, her fists tighten. Lily Evans, of course. Who else would call her out in such a, well, _bitchy_ way?

 

“Are you honestly trying to have a side conversation in a meeting with seven people?” Lily asks, rudely, her eyes narrowed at Elsea.

 

Elsea, who is about to revert into attack dog mode, fixes her best, most practiced indifferent look. “Sorry,” she says, not sorry, “something _important_ came up.”

 

“Everything alright?” Anya is visibly startled, the sheet of paper she had been reading notes off of held tightly in her hand shakes. Her brown eyes are big and worrisome, and Elsea and Archie both stiffen out of habit. Under her gaze, they’re always trying to be a little bit better.

 

“We’re all okay,” Archie says. He’s grown rather good at lying to Anya since the start of the year. Seems they’ve been keeping more secrets than usual, though. Elsea has started to lose count, and honestly, she just assumes Anya knows close to nothing about close to everything these days. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

 

She blushes, lifting her paper to start again. Elsea turns to Archie, giving him a questioning gaze. He shrugs, opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted.

 

“Why don’t you tell us now?” Lily stands, glides to the center of the room.

 

“Well, it’s sort of private,” Archie says, looking Lily straight in the eyes. “Between close friends, you see.”

 

Elsea watches as Anya blushes even further. That sly dog.

 

“Ah, yes, of course,” Lily says, walking closer to Archie. His eyes widen fearfully. “Then why don’t you wait for your so called close friend to end her meeting? It is very important to her, you see. Close personal friends should know that.”

 

Anya just looks bewildered to be the center of attention in such a way.

 

Elsea glares, and apparently, her filter breaks. “Who even invited you?”

 

Lily folds her arms over her chest, unfazed. “Anya.”

 

“Since when do you two know each other?” Elsea pushes.

 

She suddenly remembers that Sirius is still in the room, lingering in the back, watching events unfold. He pushes himself off the blackboard and raises a finger in the air. “Ladies, and that includes you, Blackwater—“

 

“Piss off Black.”

 

“What’s with all the tension? Can’t we all just get along and catch the High Roller together?”

 

“You’re kissing ass.” says Archie, standing up. Elsea shakes her head. Why are boys such wankers? Why do they always fight?

 

Then she looks at Lily Evans, who is still very much so glaring at her, and understands exactly why.

 

“Guys,” Anya pleads, weakly. She looks about ready to cry.

 

“What is this club even about?” Mary asks. No one answers her.

 

This entire time Alice and Frank downright confused as to the conversation happening around them. Frank has a slight smirk on his face, and Alice looks terrified, but altogether they look very out of place, like background characters in a muggle film. Across the room, Jason has fallen asleep on his desk.

 

Elsea decides it’s time, no matter how entertaining it might be, to call it a night.

 

“Okay!” She booms, standing up. It’s time to put everything she’s learned from being a secret drug lord to work. “Everyone shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down!”

 

Sirius and Archie go first, both obedient in the same way.

 

Lily still stands, arms folded, glaring at her. “You can’t tell me what to do, Elsea Holmes. I’m head girl.”

 

“You’re also holding up my _close friend’s_ meeting because you have some childish vendetta against me.” Elsea says, pulling her chair out from her side and walks away from it. “ _Sit_.”

 

Everyone stares at Lily. Even Jason lifts his head from his nap to stare, bleary eyed, probably stoned enough to pass out again. Elsea feels a strange jealousy towards him. It must be so simple to just be one of her customers. Jason probably didn’t have a care in the world. Sometimes she wishes she could blaze up any time of the day, not have to worry about the consequences. It must have been a week since the last time she smoked, maybe longer.

 

“Fine.” Lily sits down, hands clenched into fists. “But only for the cause.”

 

Elsea scoffs and does a curtsy. “Oh, of course.”

 

She hears Archie snort loudly as she walks away, taking her proper seat at the front of the room, in the chair behind the professor’s desk. Yes, the world is finally in order again. Well, almost.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo yo yo HERE WE ARE things are ~changing~
> 
> let us know what you think via that cute lil comment function below :~)


	9. I'll Be There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let me explain,” Anya skips to the front of the room, proudly holding the bag in front of her. “At the first meeting, Jason came in high. I’m no idiot, you see. So I told him off and stuff, you know? Like how can you come to a S.A.P.S. meeting after P.S.ing? Well anyway, for some strange reason, like, after ten seconds of me half yelling at him, he just handed me an entire bag of weed. Told me to keep it, as if he were doing me a favor or something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovelies! Sorry for the delayed post. My (Grace) laptop broke over the weekend in an unfortunate accident...in which my three month old kitten jumped on the screen and cracked it straight down the middle. Good news, I've got a new Mac! So, we've edited this chapter, and are a little behind, but will do our best to catch up and get things back on track.
> 
> Enjoy!

One of Elsea Holmes’ many, many philosophies is that if the common room is ever empty, there is damn good reason for it. That reason, at about seven fifty seven in the morning, is that most students have already headed out for breakfast, and then their lessons. Even the last stragglers exited a few minutes ago. Which is why it’s strange that Elsea is still sat on the end of the royal blue sofa, a knot in her stomach, and Anya is slouched next to her.

 

Something is wrong.

 

They should’ve been at breakfast by now. Archie should’ve been down from the boy’s dormitories at least twenty minutes ago. He’s always been a bit of a diva, so Elsea is not _completely_ surprised by any lateness... but still. Twenty minutes is extensive, even for Archie. Typically, he absolutely refuses to go to their first lessons without breakfast, ranting about the importance of early food intake nearly each time Anya thinks about skipping. He’s never left _this_ much time.

 

“Anya,” Elsea drawls, lazily from the sofa. She’s exhausted from last night. It turns out the Purple Pills work fantastically on girls (thanks to Hadley’s compliance, finally), but also cause slight insomnia when taken later in the day. “Can you check on Archie?”

 

Anya looks over at Elsea and manages a lazy eye roll.

 

“I don’t wanna move unless there are uppers involved.”

 

“Caffeine is a drug, you know, Ms. Die Roller.”

 

Anya rolls her eyes again, this time turning on her side. “Okay? So is _ibuprofen_. Are you going to stop taking that when you’ve got a headache then? Huh?”

 

“Oh, relax,” Elsea chirps. Apparently, even Anya is intolerable in the morning. “I’m just teasing.”

 

“Yeah, well, don’t do that.”

 

“Okay. I won’t.”

 

“ _Good_.”

 

“ _Fine_.”

 

They fall silent, with Anya looking like she might fall asleep at any moment. They’d gotten ready in their usual sleepy way; with Elsea elbowing all the other Ravenclaw girls, including Hadley, in the gut to get to the mirror and apply her eyeliner, while Anya ran a comb through her hair and accidentally brushed her teeth with face wash.

 

Another few minutes pass and Elsea says, “We’re gonna miss Charms.”

 

Anya frowns. “I hate missing lessons.”

 

“Then go to Charms or _go get Archie_.”

 

“Elsea. _No_.”

 

“You’re impossible.”

 

Anya just shrugs noncommittally. Even she’s too tired to move without the constant stimulant that is Archie’s presence. 

 

“Where the bloody hell is he?” Elsea groans in a way that can only be described as not lady-like. Not that Elsea has ever been concerned with being a proper lady. Far too much work.

 

At this, Elsea hoists herself off the couch. As fun as is it to sit around on a Thursday morning and bicker with her best mate, there is _breakfast_ being _served_. And it’s Bacon Day. Elsea has no intentions of missing bacon day because Archie can’t pick the right designer jumper that will most likely be covered by his robes anyway.

 

So she crosses the room in three long strides and hurries up the dormitory stairs, weaving past the underclassmen boy’s dormitories, and stops outside the seventh years’. 

 

“Archie!” Elsea cries as she moves down the hall. “Archie Blackwater, you get your overstyled narcissistic arse out of your room _right_ now!”

 

She hears Anya scurry behind her, probably wanting to catch a glimpse of shirtless Archie. Not that everyone in the school hasn’t seen that before, anyway. The proud wanker could never resist discarding his shirt after a good Quidditch game. Or an average one, really. He didn’t discriminate.

 

“Archie!” Elsea pounds on the door. “Open _up_. Open this door or I’ll burn all your pristinely rolled spliffs. And not in the fun way!”

 

“Els, I don’t think he’s in there,” Anya yawns. “He would’ve at least shouted something back.”

 

“Nonsense,” Elsea says, continuously slamming her fist against the dark wood panelling. “He’s probably just blow drying his hair. Now - _Archie_! Archibald Blackwater the _Third_.”

 

Anya leans against the wall helplessly, flinching every so often at Elsea’s aggressive blows to the door. This goes on for around four minutes until, finally, the door flies open.

 

“Will you shut your bloody trap?” Webb, who rarely, if not never, speaks to Elsea outside of High Roller business, flings the door open angrily. “Who do you think you are? Screaming into the boy’s dormitory at this hour? You think that’s _okay_?”

 

Elsea stutters, to her disdain, and steps back. 

 

Webb’s hair is newly shaved into a buzzcut, and he’s not wearing a shirt. Despite Elsea’s utter dislike for him, he’s cut, with nice, smooth muscles. Quidditch has done him well. 

 

“Can you just get, um, get Archie,” Anya ends up muttering, weakly. At least she got to see _someone_ without a shirt. “It’s breakfast time.”

 

“No fucking shit,” Webb spits. Elsea looks over his shoulder to see a curvy Hufflepuff sitting behind in his bed in an oversized “The Who” T-shirt. _Oh_. “He’s not here. Flitwick pulled him out early this morning. Something about personal matters. Now if you would _please-_ ”

 

“Personal matters?” Anya asks. Her voice is quiet and mouselike, clearly in fear. “Like what?”

 

“--Listen, Darzi, I got no fuckin’ clue. Why don’t you go ask Flitwick? Or someone who gives a bloody fuck?”

 

Elsea now understands why Webb and her aren’t friends. He’s an absolute pig.

 

“Will do,” Elsea steps forward, a cool look on her face, “thanks for the help, trash bag. Tell your friend over there that I’m deducting” --she raises her voice, tapping her chin with a manicured nail-- “ _ten points_ from Hufflepuff! Have a _great_ morning.”

 

“Fuck you!” Webb shouts after her. As Elsea and Anya race down the stairs, the sounds of a lover’s quarrel can be heard from Webb’s open door. Webb _clearly_ does not care about the loss of points to a rival house, but _clearly_ dislikes Elsea having control of him. As usual.

 

The girls hurry back down the stairs, with Anya blubbering with worry and Elsea on a mission for breakfast. 

 

“Serves them right,” Elsea grumbles, now striding across the common room toward the exit. “Wankers. I can’t bloody stand that guy.”

 

“Where are we going?” Anya asks, stepping in front of the exit. “What about Archie?”

 

“What about him?”

 

“Uh, personal matters? That sounds serious.” As serious as the look on Anya’s face, apparently. The girl is positively distraught.

 

“You know what else sounds serious?” Elsea asks, rhetorically, of course. “The blood curdling cries of starvation coming from my stomach. Let’s go.”

 

Anya opens her mouth the protest, but comes up with nothing. Stepping to the side, she gestures Elsea to the door. The variety of bracelets and ribbons tied to her wrist jangle as she does so. “Go ahead,” Anya mumbles. “Fine.”

 

Elsea sighs, relieved, as she puts her hand on the door to finally get the hell out of Ravenclaw Tower, and pushes. 

 

And right at the other side, annoyingly enough, Archie Blackwater stands with his head down, mid-riddle.

 

“Oh,” he says. “Never mind then.”

 

“You fucking arsehole.” Elsea barrels through the entry, pushing Archie as hard as she can for her sluggish morning self. “We’ve been starving in there. Waiting like a bunch of wankers. You better _move_.”

 

Elsea is using more British slang than usual, which typically means she’s overly tired or overly hungry. All signs point to both 

 

Archie’s eyes are blown wide, his hair disheveled. He doesn’t really look too good on second glance. Well, not too good for Archie Blackwater, at least. The bags underneath his eyes are more pronounced, and, Elsea notices, a bit swollen.

 

“Are you okay?” Anya asks, pushing past her and grabbing Archie by the arm. Elsea steps back, feeling a pang of guilt. There really is something wrong, and her first instinct had been to chastise him for keeping her from her bacon and eggs. How stupid.

 

“I’m...” Archie starts, his voice comes out funny, breathy. He looks from Elsea to Anya, then at his feet. He’s wearing slippers. “My Aunt Maggie was killed yesterday afternoon.”

 

Archie speaks relatively often about his family, but never about his Aunt Maggie. Elsea, who doesn’t know who that is, still feels a pang of guilt in her stomach. Should she have known Archie’s Aunt Maggie? The only thing she can recall about her was the watch she bought him around a month ago, because he’s still wearing it.

 

“Oh Merlin, Archie!” Anya cries, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him to her. She presses her thin body against him, trying to bury his head in her neck. “I’m so sorry. I’m _so_ sorry.”

 

Archie doesn’t speak. He puts his hand on her back, moving in slow circles. Elsea has never seen him look so void of emotion, it’s almost like he’s sleeping with his eyes open.

 

“How did it--” Elsea stops, wondering if it’s too soon to ask something like that. “How are you?”

 

Then she hates herself, because the obvious answer is probably not well. Does she even need to ask? She’s absolute trash in these sorts of situations. Once Stan lost a beloved pet iguana and cried for days. All Elsea could do was offer to buy him a new one.

 

Archie nods his head, shrugs one shoulder. “She was killed by You Know Who’s people. She used to be one of them...so I suppose she kind of… well…. I don’t...”

 

He exhales.

 

“Never mind.”

 

Elsea and Anya both nod, a little too quickly. 

 

“I mean no,” Archie says, looking up defiantly. Anya is staring at him with so much pity she nearly looks fearful. “I can say it. She was off’d by some freak accident with a snake, which is funny because she loves - loved, nature. Ironic, right? How nature killed her. Of course it was a snake charmed by the Death Eaters but still, it’s the same thing, quintessentially.”

 

He pauses, swallowing.

 

“Serves me right, I guess. I should’ve reached out to her but my Mum _never_ let me. She’d always say, ‘Aunt Maggie is in a bad place right now, Archibald. She’s not ready for you yet, Archibald.’ I met her _six times_ , my own Aunt. _Six_. Did it even matter who she decided to align with? She was my aunt!”

 

His eyes are watering now. Anya has somewhat recoiled into herself, her hands still on him but her body distant. 

 

Elsea feels herself quiver. Archie never cried in front of her before. “Archie...”

 

“No, don’t.” He sniffles, wiping his nose on the back of his cloak. “Don’t look at me like that. Just don’t.”

 

He closes his eyes, heaving air, having some sort of inner tantrum. While he descends into himself, Elsea and Anya lead him into the common room. There are more people in their now, a few second years scattered around the rug, copying notes from each other last minute. Elsea looks at Anya, mouths, ‘our room?’ before setting off. 

 

By the time Archie is laying in Elsea’s bed, curled into a pathetic ball, he’s got tears down his cheeks.

 

“I was supposed to see her this break for the first time since I was eleven,” Archie says, randomly. His voice is terribly strained. It has a new raw element to it that Elsea barely recognizes, it’s almost frightening.

 

“Yeah?” says Anya. She’s sitting, cross legged on her bed, watching him woefully.

 

“Yeah,” Archie croaks. “She sent me a letter two weeks ago with a whole list of the stuff we were gonna do. Mostly muggle activities.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Mini golf.”

 

Elsea giggles, she can’t help it, at the sight of Archie playing putt-putt with a miniature golf club and a bunch of children running around his knees. He would’ve absolutely hated that.

 

“I know,” Archie says, a ghost of a laugh on his voice. “Would’ve done it for her, though.”

 

“There’s a mini golf course down the block from my parents’ flat,” Anya chimes in. She has her hands folded neatly in her lap. “We can always go during the Summer, when it’s warm out and not rainy. For Maggie. You love London, right Arch?”

 

She sounds uncomfortable saying the name ‘Maggie,’ almost as if she’s afraid of intruding.

 

“I’ve really not been to many places except Diagon Alley, you know, my Mum being slightly afraid of muggles and whatnot.”

 

At least Archie’s mum wasn’t some anti-muggle born maniac, Elsea thinks. Though, her strange fear for what she doesn’t understand is slightly humorous. Meeting Elsea’s brother Stan at an accidental running into at the Leaky Cauldron was enough to send Mrs. Cordelia Winthrop Blackwater into hives. 

 

“Well, you mum hasn’t got to come mini golfing with us, then, does she?” Elsea asks with a smirk. 

 

Archie rolls over in Elsea’s bed, smiling slightly at Anya. “You guys would mini golf for me?”

 

“Of course we would,” Anya says. “I’m actually quite good at it. One of my sisters, you know, Kerani, golfs at the club with her husband three nights a week. She says it helps her unload after a day of briefs and case work.”

 

Elsea, who is leaning against her four poster bed, smiles. “We’re both from the muggle world, remember? Stan loves golfing. Says it frees his mind, or something. He’s ruddy awful, though.”

 

Archie quirks a meager grin. “I love that guy. We should smoke with him sometime.”

 

“Archie you say that every time I bring him up.”

 

“I know. He’s just _so_ cool. I think I want to be Stanley Holmes when I grow up.”

 

“Why?” Elsea asks, because she honestly can’t imagine a good reason. “So you can smoke pot everyday in a mobile home?”

 

Anya gasps, clasping her hands together as if she’s just had a stroke of genius. “What if we smoked right now?”

 

Elsea blinks, turning to Anya, shocked. “Excuse me?”

 

“Yeah,” Archie sits up at that, rubbing his eyes, “ _what_?”

 

“One second.” Anya pauses, jumping off her bed and running to the farthest corner of the room. She begins digging through her laundry hamper, tossing used jumpers and colorful socks left and right, flowing skirts and floral vest tops up and down, leaning and further and further into what is beginning to look like a wormhole of dirty clothing. Finally, she pulls out a tiny plastic bag. Inside that bag is a square of tin foil. Inside the foil, is another plastic bag.

 

“Anya?” Archie asks, weary. “Is that what I think it is?”

 

She opens the plastic bag. “Yes.”

 

“ _Anya_.”

 

“Let me explain,” Anya skips to the front of the room, proudly holding the bag in front of her. “At the first meeting, Jason came in high. I’m no idiot, you see. So I told him off and stuff, you know? Like how can you come to a S.A.P.S. meeting after P.S.ing? Well anyway, for some _strange_ reason, like, after ten seconds of me half yelling at him, he just handed me an entire bag of weed. Told me to keep it, as if he were doing me a favor or something.”

 

“Holy shit,” Elsea says, laughing. “And you kept it?”

 

“Not even on purpose. I was gonna throw it out but then I forgot and just left it in my pocket. It’s been there for a few weeks, I could’ve gotten in so much trouble, too.”

 

Elsea almost laughs again, because boy, if Anya were to get in trouble for hiding a stale half gram of marijuana in her room, her reputation as the anti-drug queen of Hogwarts would be ruined. Though, Elsea has to admit, S.A.P.S. might get a bit more popular as a result. 

 

Hogwarts students love ironically joining clubs. 

 

“I’m still stuck on the idea of you smoking,” Archie says. His mood seems to have lifted, some what, probably due to the distraction. “You’re the president of S.A.P.S.”

 

“Eh,” Anya shrugs nonchalantly. “Think of it as an occasion. And you know, I have smoked before. I’ve smoked with _you_ before. I just have a problem with people who do it on the regular, is all.”

 

“Well,” Elsea says, sitting on the edge of her bed. “Let’s not waste anymore time dwelling on it then, no? We’d best get to the forest before Anya changes her mind.”

 

-.-

 

The hospital wing is nearly deserted now, save for the lone first year girl sleeping in the far corner after she’d hit herself upside the head with a beater’s bat during flying lessons. Remus, who had been sleeping off another full moon’s tirades, stares dully around the room. 

 

Madame Pomfrey, despite the fact that she’s seen him there every nine months for the past six years, will never, under any circumstances, let him attend classes the day after a full moon. Remus has always thought this was rather dangerous, seeing as a few smart students could piece together the fact that he’s a god damn werewolf, but thus far, he’s managed to keep his secret under wraps.

 

There had been only minor damages from the previous night’s full moon, just a few scratches on his arm and one on his thigh, nothing Madame Pomfrey couldn’t patch right up. But the scratch on his thigh still itched, terribly, and Remus had to physically restrain himself from digging his nails into his leg all morning.

 

The clock strikes noon and almost simultaneously, the Hospital Wing doors fly open, revealing the figures of Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. 

 

“How’s it hanging brother,” Sirius says, feigning an American accent. He holds his hand up for a high five, but Remus leaves him hanging. “Brought you a BLT. I know you get bummed when you miss bacon day, so I saved from this morning and made you something more lunch appropriate.”

 

Remus shifts in his bed, smiling at Sirius and accepting the wax-paper wrapped sandwich. “Thanks Padfoot.”

 

“No problem, Wormtail did most of the work,” Sirius says, gesturing towards Peter, who is lounging on the bed adjacent to his. “Kid knows how to make a sandwich.”

 

“It’s really not hard,” Peter insists. “You literally just put ingredients between bread.”

 

“Ah, you’re too humble for your own good, Wormy.”

 

Peter sighs and nods his head. There really is no arguing with Sirius Black. 

 

Remus leaves the sandwich on the nightstand. He’s aggressively not hungry. It’s extremely difficult to hold food down the day after a full moon. He’s not sure why, but it’s always been that way. Especially when it’s something heavy, or greasy, like a bacon sandwich. He feels repulsed by the idea of putting it anywhere near his mouth.

 

“You did really well last night,” Peter says, staring at Remus’ sandwich. “Barely nicked yourself.”

 

Remus shrugs under the covers. “I have a pretty bad scratch on my leg, actually.”

 

“Could’ve been worse.”

 

“I suppose. You can eat that if you want.”

 

Peter takes the sandwich, unwrapping it slowly. ”You sure?”

 

“Go for it, mate. I’ve had loads of chocolate today already.”

 

Randomly, Sirius throws a deck of cards at Remus’ chest. He catches it with one hand.

 

“Ow?”

 

“I’m not apologizing for that because if really hurt you wouldn’t have said ‘ow’ as if it were a question,” Sirius begins, clapping his hands together. “Let’s play a game, shall we? Poker?”

 

“No,” Peter says quickly. “I hate poker.”

 

“You only hate it because you’re rubbish at it.”

 

“ _Exactly_. Next.”

 

“We can play…” Sirius trails off, pulling the deck of cards forcefully out of Remus’ hand to shuffle. “Uh, Remus? Any suggestions.”

 

“We could let me take a nap?” Remus huffs. Peter is munching not-so-attractively on the sandwich next to him. Even the sight is making him a bit queasy, not to mention the smell. 

 

Sirius lets out a short, fake laugh, before sitting on the edge of Remus’ bed. “Suppose we could use you as a table, if that’s what you really want.” 

 

“I didn’t say that.”

 

“Peter!” Sirius calls. “Come sit on the big comfy couch.”

 

“Fine,” Remus cries, exasperated, as he kicks his legs out from underneath the blanket and pulls himself into a proper sitting position. “Let’s just play rummy, or something.”

 

“Dunno what that is,” Sirius points out, shuffling the cards with a flick of his wand. Sometimes Remus forgets that, despite Sirius’ open-mindedness, he’s come from a seriously pureblood mania family, and doesn’t know much about muggle things. “So, let’s play go squid.”

 

“I hate that game.” Peter pouts.

 

“You hate everything Pete. And I love go squid, and I’m sad, so I get this one.”

 

“You are?” Remus leans forward. “Because I didn’t realize you were the one sitting in the hospital wing all day.”

 

“I’ve got internal pain, _man pain_ ,” Sirius starts dealing out cards, “The type of pain Madame Pomfrey can’t sure.”

 

“Really?” Peter asks, mouthful of BLT.

 

“Yes, my heart is _broken_.”

 

Madame Pomfrey drops a tray of medical supplies on the ground and curses. 

 

“What the hell?” Peter laughs, picking up his cards and hitting them against his palm. “Never thought I’d hear that. Who’s the lady?”

 

“Yeah, McGonagall turn you down?” Remus smirks. Sirius scoffs, shaking his head. He drops the remaining cards haphazardly in a pile in the middle of the three of them. Remus reaches forward to organize them out of habit, but Sirius slaps his hand away.

 

“ _No_.” Sirius picks up his cards and looks through them. “Moony, got any deuces? Besides, Minnie would never turn me down. I’ve been buttering her up for ages now. No, lads, my heart is deeply, deeply broken by one Anya Darzi.”

 

Remus snorts. Peter just asks, “Who?”

 

Remus thinks of Elsea Holmes’ best friend, the tall and thin girl of Indian descent is the opposite of Padfoot’s tastes. Tasteful, sweet, high self-esteem, strongly opinionated and not willing to settle. Sirius’ type usually falls somewhere in the extremely desperate or extremely clueless categories. Anya, to Remus’ knowledge, is none of those things. And yet…

 

“No twos,” Remus tells Sirius, who frowns. “I dunno why you’re on about that, she literally can’t stand you, mate.”

 

“ _Who_?” Peter asks again.

 

“Pete, any sevens?” Remus makes a point to ignore his question. Sometimes he likes to watch Wormtail struggle. 

 

“Yeah,” Peter frowns, pulling a seven out from his cards and handing it over to Remus. 

 

“How about any sixes?” 

 

Peter slouches his shoulder in defeat and hands one over. 

 

“She does for _now_ ,” Sirius shrugs, “but don’t worry. She’ll get to know me and realize I’m her true love.”

 

“Woah,” Peter cries, putting his hands into the air, “you just dropped the L bomb.”

 

“Lesbians?”

 

Remus sits forward and smacks Sirius upside the head.

 

“Love, you tosser.” Peter rolls his eyes. 

 

“Pete,” Remus continues, still his turn. “Any threes?”

 

Peter shouts out in terror and hands another card over. Remus smirks.

 

“I don’t _love_ her, I _fancy_ her. I think. I dunno. She’s wicked cute. And I like a challenge.”

 

Remus can’t help but feel like Sirius is a major prat for dehumanizing Anya, who is such a nice, intelligent _human being_ , into a challenge, but he just forces a smile and asks Peter one more time, “Any Jacks?”

 

Luckily for Pete, however, the doors to the hospital wing swing open and the figure of his final best friend strolls inside, along with a fiery redhead who looks, as she usually does, ready for a fight.

 

“Prongs!” Peter shouts, relieved to not hand over his last card. Remus eyes it, ready to snag the card because he very well will not lose to Peter or Sirius in go squid, for Merlin’s sake. “How are you, mate?”

 

“I am fantastic, Pete.” James grins, pulling Lily into the room by her hand. He uses his other hand to clasp Peter on the back and says to Remus, “How are you feeling?”

 

“Fine, it turned out to be just a one night bug.”

 

Remus eyes Lily warily as the leftover feelings of annoyance creep back. She’s got her long red hair straight and for once, not pinned back in those severe steel barrettes. Instead, her face is slightly hidden. Her uniform is in pristine condition, however, and he can see her wand poking out of her robes. 

 

“Good,” James cries, a little bit too excited as he tugs Lily forward again a little. “Uh, so, Lily has something she wants to say to you.”

 

Remus raises his eyebrows, but nods. At the end of his bed, Sirius has thrown all the cards onto the floor and is watching, amused. Pete, as always, looks a bit confused.

 

“Uh, Remus,” Lily says, pushing her hair behind her ears and looking down at him. Her green eyes are a bit watery, and Remus suddenly realizes the two of them must have had a rather serious conversation a few minutes before. James, despite his chipper attitude, looks exhausted, and maybe even a little sad. “I’m sorry for what I said, about, you know, Elsea Holmes. I’m sorry for being so judgmental. You can like who you want. Even if they’re-”

 

“ _-Lily_ , for Merlin’s sake, control yourself,” James hisses. 

 

Lily swallows, then smiles tightly. “It’s your life.”

 

Sirius barks out in laughter before Remus has the chance to respond. “Nice!” 

 

“What happened?” Peter whispers to him. Sirius just shrugs.

 

Remus, who is mindlessly shuffling his eight cards in his hand, just nods. “Thanks, your approval was much needed.”

 

Lily opens her mouth, possibly to yell, but James does it for her. “Remus, just take the fucking apology.”

 

“I did,” Remus says, tossing his cards forward. “You want me to do better? Fine. Lily, thank you for your apology. It was very nice. However I don’t think it’s me you owe the apology to, you know.”

 

It’s a rare occurrence that Lily Evans ever looks confused, but when the time arises, all must relish in all its beauty. And Remus is feeling more than a bit confrontational, so he decides he might as well keep it going.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“You apologized for what you said about Elsea Holmes to _me_ ,” Remus explains, “I don’t care about that, I’m not Elsea Holmes. If you want to get that weight off your shoulders you’re gonna have to apologize to _her_.”

 

“I’m not apologizing to Elsea Holmes,” Lily says, quickly, looking perturbed, “I have nothing to be sorry for.”

 

“Are you sure? You were pretty mean to her last night,” Sirius pips up, always playing the devil’s advocate.

 

“Yeah, well, she was disrupting the meeting.”

 

“What meeting?” Remus asks just as James says, “Last night?” He looks upset. 

 

“Does it matter?” Lily looks so uncomfortable, her fingers are twitching at her sides. The boys just stare at her.

 

Remus can’t help but think that since Lily has stopped hating James, she needs to focus all her pent up, negative energy on a new target. That new person, it seems, is Elsea Holmes. 

 

No one says anything until Lily cries out, “Okay! Fine. Alright. I’m not unreasonable, I just expect the best out of everyone, okay? Is that a crime? I’m sorry. I’ll be more,” she pauses, searching for the right word, “tolerant, with her.”

 

“So you’ll apologize?” Remus asks. He feels that at the very least, Elsea would enjoy that. 

 

Lily sighs, looking around for a friend in the situation, but James is avoiding her gaze. Remus thinks he wants to stick up for her, but knows she’s been, well, a bitch.

 

“Fine,” Lily says through her teeth. “I’ll apologize.”

 

“When?” Sirius prods.

 

“ _Enough_ ,” James cuts in, standing closely by Lily’s side. “You don’t need to take it too far.”

 

There’s a beat of silence, everyone standing around, staring from Lily, to Sirius, to James.

Eventually, Remus feels bored of it and turns to Peter.

 

“Hey Pete, how about those Jacks?”

 

-.-

 

“God, I didn’t realize it was so bloody cold out,” Elsea mumbles, tugging her coat closer to her as she leans back against the boulder she decided to sit on nearly an hour ago. They had found this place in their fourth year, when Elsea first started smoking and Archie first started coming along with Maddox. Maddox quite literally stumbled upon it, after tripping over an enchanted branch that grabbed at his ankle. They’ve been going there if they ever needed somewhere scenic to smoke since. And strangely, that happened quite often. “When did it get so chilly?”

 

“It’s autumn, Els,” Anya says, she’s been pacing and looking around the clearing cautiously since they arrived. “The weather tends to get colder.”

 

“Don’t be a smart arse,” Elsea quips, pulling her trusty bag of paraphernalia out of her robes. “And sit down, you are harshing my mellow.”

 

Archie chuckles, sitting with his knees tucked to his chest by a neighboring rock. He hasn’t appeared sad since Anya pulled illegal substance out of her laundry basket. Elsea can understand why.

 

“I just don’t want to get caught, okay?” Anya whines, sitting between Archie and Elsea. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Archie says playfully, hitting her knee. “You almost done, Els?”

 

“My grinder is jammed.” Elsea hits her grinder against a rock, hoping to force it open. “The thing won’t budge.”

 

“What’s a grinder?” asks Anya.

 

“It’s pretty self explanatory,” Archie says, but Anya still looks clueless so he continues, “it grinds down the weed into small pieces so it’s easier to pack a bowl with. It also collects keef.”

 

“Keith? Like Keith Bennett from History of Magic class?”

 

Archie gives her a small, half smile. “You know what? Sure. Or Keith Richards. From the Stones.” 

 

“Cool.” Anya grins back at him. Elsea of course, doesn’t notice this at all.

 

“Got it!” she cries. “Lookie here, Anya. This is what you’re protesting.”

 

The grinder contains at least a gram and a half, by Elsea’s measurements. It’s a small container, shaped like a cylinder and made of metal. She enchanted it to rose gold last summer, when Stan kept “mixing theirs up” because they were both steel grey. The weed inside, however, is the real prize. 

 

It doesn’t look like much, small little green granules that smell like a mix between fresh cut grass and Elsea’s perfume. However, as silly as it seems, it’s Elsea’s pride and joy. She grew this stuff, sold this stuff, made Stan a living out of it. She can barely believe what something as insignificant as little green granules can do for her.

 

“Awesome,” Anya deadpans, “let’s get this over with.”

 

“Archie gets A’s,” Elsea says, packing her glass bowl, which is also a bit of a novelty. “Because he’s a little prince.”

 

“Yes!” Archie cheers. “Can Anya get B’s?”

 

Elsea frowns. “No, _I_ want B’s.”

 

“But she never smokes, I want her to be higher than I am.”

 

Throughout this entire exchange, Anya is just attempting to hide her ever-growing frown. “Well that’s not gonna happen, Archie, hurry up.”

 

“Don’t rush the master,” Archie chastises her playfully, taking the bowl out of Elsea’s hand. He gestures for a lighter. Turns out, with the proximity and the awkward angle it causes a person’s arms to sit at, wands aren’t the best tools for lighting a bowl. 

 

He takes the first hit, slow and steady, then eases into a short cough as he pulls away. 

 

“Ah,” Archie hits his fist against his chest, “that kind of hurt. You need to clean your bowl, Els.”

 

“It hurts?” Anya looks at him worriedly. “I don’t wanna get hurt.”

 

“Not real hurt, a good hurt,” Archie insists, voice hoarse as he passes the smoking bowl to Anya. “You’ll like it. Now go quickly, it’s cherried.”

 

Anya sheepishly presses the bowl against her lips. She looks around at them, her eyes wide and confused. 

 

“Holy shit, inhale already.”

 

Elsea doesn’t know why she’s acting so gingerly about it all, it’s not like Anya hasn’t smoked with them before. The girl knows how to hit a bowl, better yet, a _bong_. Elsea tries to keep from frowning herself.

 

Anya pulls, breathing out smoothly as she lifts the bowl from her mouth and places it gently in Elsea’s hand. A cloud of smoke tumbles from her lips and she doesn’t even cough.

 

“That was smooth,” Archie says, tossing Elsea the lighter. “Impressive, Anya.”

 

She blushes, clearing her throat and settling against a rock. “Yeah, well, you know.”

 

They pass the bowl between the three of them for a while, laughing, coughing, getting those fantastic hits where their eyes water and one of them need to get up and walk it off for a minute. Every once in a while Archie seems to check out, though, staring the branches over their heads and frowning. Elsea can’t imagine how difficult it must be for him. She’s never really lost anyone like that before. There are her parents, of course, but they’re just in the states. She receives a long letter from them at least once a week.

 

After a while, they end up cuddling up against a rock. Elsea and Anya on either side, Archie in the middle.

 

“If the lads on the quidditch team could see me now...” Archie muses dreamily. 

 

Elsea slaps him playfully, moving away. 

 

“You’d get suspended for smoking pot,” Anya tells him, her chin tucked against his chest, eyes closed. 

 

Archie hushes her, shaking his head. “Don’t ruin it.”

 

Elsea thinks Anya and Archie almost look cute as she rests against a rock, alone. Actually, looking at them makes her feel a bit lonely.

 

“I’ve never been this high,” Anya mumbles then, “I wanna nap but I’m having too much fun.”

 

“I think I’m gonna go to the funeral.” Archie says randomly. His tone is light and sleepy, but it still seems to still the entire forest. “My mum told me it’s probably not a good idea, because, you know, Death Eaters. But I’m gonna go. I have to.”

 

Elsea wants to say something, but she’s got her eye caught on a shiny thing in the distance, so she just nods and stays silent. Anya wraps her arm around his upper body in order to comfort him. 

 

“That’s really brave, Archie.” Anya says. And for once, it doesn’t sound like she’s trying to compliment him. It’s natural. Elsea agrees by reaching her hand out to squeeze Archie’s.

 

“Thanks,” He nearly whispers, voice rasping. “You’re really the best.” His bloodshot eyes are glimmering with tears, again, Elsea can see it from a mile away. 

 

“We’ll walk you to...” Elsea cuts in quickly, then pauses, shifting her eyes up to look at him. “How _are_ you leaving?”

 

“Floo through Flitwick’s office. Soon, I think. An hour, maybe.”

 

“So soon?” Anya asks, surprised. “We better start walking, then.”

 

“But I’m so comfortable,” Archie pleads aimlessly, running his hand along Anya’s back. Something twitches inside of Elsea at the sight of that. What the _fuck_ is going on?

 

“We better start walking,” Elsea repeats, standing up quickly. “I think there are ticks out here, so like, let’s go.”

 

“ _Ticks_?” Anya practically jumps off the ground, nearly stepping on Archie’s limp body. “In the forbidden forest? Don’t you think that’s a bit-”

 

“- what the hell are ticks?” Archie says, slowly lifting himself from the ground, his arm balanced heavily on the boulder he was resting on. “Is that another muggle thing?”

 

“Sort of,” Elsea insists, walking ahead of them. The longer she looks at sad Archie and needy Anya the sicker she feels. She doesn’t even understand what it is that makes her feel so… _uncomfortable_ about all of this. It could be the omnipresence of death, or the actual war hitting actual home - either way, Elsea can’t sit still anymore. Her mind is racing, Anya and Archie keep touching, she has to _go_ somewhere _else_. “Hurry _up_.”

 

-.-

 

Remus stretches, his back cracking satisfyingly as he gets up from the bed.

 

“It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Lupin,” Madame Pomfrey says cheerily, holding Remus’ tattered coat on one arm and a bottle of water in the other. She always insisted he take the water with him, to keep hydrated and what not. Remus didn’t have the heart to tell her no. Besides, he’s already been cramming his face with chocolate since he woke up, and there is absolutely no more room in his stomach, even for a drop of water. 

 

“Ah, always a pleasure here,” Remus says, accepting his coat and drink. “Like a five star hotel.”

 

“Oh, you.” Madame Pomfrey looks away, wagging her finger at him knowingly. “So _charming_. How do you not have all the women here swooning?”

 

“Well,” Remus begins, but he’s not exactly sure what to say to that, “see you next week!”

 

And he dashes out. 

 

Once out in the halls, Remus takes a breath of fresh air. The infirmary is definitely clean, cleaner than his dorm, most likely - but something about the random traffic of ailing students makes Remus feel like he constantly has to hold his breath. James always called him a germaphobe because of that. Peter always called him smart, however.

 

Rounding the corner, lost in thought, Remus does something he rarely does: loses his footing. He falls. Well, trips, over the unlucky person who happened to run into him. He almost yells, pulls rank because he _is_ a prefect, at the end of the day. But once he gains a sense of what just happened, he sees that he’s sitting on the ground next to someone who is certainly not an idiotic first year. He’s accidentally body slammed Elsea Holmes.

 

_Elsea Holmes_. Boy, did he have a lot to tell her.

 

“Oh, hello,” he says, as if he didn’t wipe out terribly, taking her down with him, moments ago. “Funny seeing you here.”

 

She looks up at him, dazed, and offers him a weak smile. “Hi.”

 

Remus immediately notices that ‘hi’ is quite a small greeting for Elsea. She’s usually dying to break into conversation, rambling on sight. But instead, she’s quiet. 

 

Remus stands up, offering a hand to her. “Need help?”

 

She accepts his hand, still not speaking. Remus takes this as an opportunity.

 

“So I have news, for you.” Remus feels like he’s talking to a brick wall, but adds, “Good news.”

 

“Really?” Elsea says hoarsely, a far away look in her eyes. Remus thinks she must just be stoned, or something. “Tell me.”

 

“I got Lily Evans to apologize to you,” Remus says, proudly. “Well, not yet. But she’s going to. Soon.”

 

Elsea grins, amused, finally. “You did? How?”

 

“James and I talked, he said that he didn’t know she was being so.. nosey. And then she came and apologized to me this morning in the infirmary-”

 

“-you were in the infirmary?” Elsea asks, looking moderately concerned. 

 

“Yeah,” Remus sighs. He’s really tired of explaining himself. “Overnight bug. I’m fine now. Anyway, Sirius brought up this meeting thing. Apparently she was nasty at that, too, which you never even _told_ me about, but I’ll finish.”

 

He pauses, recuperating. Remus has always been horrible at telling stories. Elsea, meanwhile, looks exhausted. 

 

“So we all kind of cornered her. It was brilliant, even James was proper angry at the end. She finally said she’d apologize to her after just about everyone in the room was on the opposition. You would’ve loved it.”

 

Elsea smiles distantly. “Wish I was there.”

 

“Yeah,” Remus says happily. He stares at Elsea momentarily. Her hair is down today, she’s not wearing her robes or any makeup. It looks like she just woke up moments ago. He’s a bit afraid to ask why she looks so... well, _sloppy_. There really isn’t a nice way to say “hey you look terrible, is something up?” But Remus supposes they’re friends, somewhat, so he has to say _something_. “Are you stoned right now?”

 

Elsea, looking the most expressive he’s seen her since they’ve literally crashed into each other, snaps at him. “No. I’m not _fucking_ stoned.”

 

“Oh,” Remus says, timidly. Elsea’s never done that to him before. Sure, he’s heard she can be quite… catty. But still, never to Remus. “Sorry.”

 

“No, no,” Elsea says quickly swallowing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just snapped like that I’m just...”

 

She pauses, shrugging her shoulders. 

 

“...having a rough day? It’s not your fault. Sorry, I’m just sorry.”

 

She looks fragile, standing in front of him with her arms wrapped so tightly around herself. Her expression is vulnerable when she apologizes, wisps of blonde hair fall into her face and she makes no effort to move them. Elsea just stands, staring, her eyes bloodshot from Merlin knows what, saying sorry.

 

“It’s fine. I’m really the dick here, being all presumptuous and what not.” Remus cuts her off, stepping closer to her. He feels so guilty when he looks at her, it’s almost as difficult as staring into the sun. “Remember? I’m a huge pulsating dick?”

 

Elsea laughs, but it doesn’t sound as lively as it should. 

 

“What’s going on?” Remus asks, and he genuinely wants to know. He’s pretty sure it takes a lot to get a girl like Elsea Holmes upset. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

 

She looks up at him and brushes a strand of hair away from her face. His stomach is suddenly in knots. Is she alright?

 

“Uh, well Archie’s aunt was killed yesterday. Murdered by You Know Who’s people. He’s just really fucked up at, uh, I don’t know. I shouldn’t be like this. It’s not…”

 

She trails off and looks away from her, cheeks heated. 

 

“Oh,” Remus mumbles. “No, I mean, you have every right to feel upset. Death is death and...it’s really fucked up out there.”

 

She nods and he thinks she might start crying soon. Her shoulders are hunched and she looks so little. Elsea Holmes is a tall girl, and she usually stands with her shoulders back and her chin held high. This is the opposite of the girl he knows, the girl he’s been getting to know for the past month.

 

“I feel stupid,” she laughs, running a hand along her cheeks and shaking her head, “I’m so sorry. You probably don’t want to deal with my shit right now.”

 

“No,” he shakes his head several times, “no. Should we...uh… go talk somewhere?”

 

He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. Elsea just watches him and for once cracks an actual smile.

 

“It’s really okay, Remus, you don’t need to look so distraught.”

 

“I’m not--” he starts, then stops. He laughs awkwardly. “I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

 

She laughs again. Apparently his awkwardness is putting her at ease. So he makes a funny face and looks down at his feet. 

 

“Oh Remus,” she giggles, and then her hands at grabbing his wrists. He feels a surge of something familiar in his stomach as she yanks him towards her. “You’re trying so hard. It’s adorable.”

 

It’s his turn to blush. Merlin, he hates blushing.

 

“I don’t have a proper response to that.” Remus says to his feet. 

 

Elsea snorts, but he can tell he’s definitely put her in a better mood. They’re standing so much closer now, and she’s swinging his arms back and forth slightly. 

 

“You could say thank you, I meant it as a compliment.”

 

“Oh,” he shakes his head, looking up at her, “Then, thanks? I guess?”

 

She’s smiling sweetly at him. “You’re _welcome_.”

 

Slowly, she drops his hands and then wraps her arms around his neck, pulling his body to hers. For a moment he thinks she might kiss him, but instead, she buries her head in his neck and sighs deeply.

 

“Thanks,” she mumbles. He doesn’t really know for what, but he doesn’t want to ask. So instead, he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her tighter, smelling the peach and apricot shampoo in her hair, and the faint smell of pot. So she had been smoking. Well, he thinks, she probably needed it this time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your kind comments, we LOVE to hear from you guys so please do keep it coming!


	10. Fernando

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahead of them, two rather plump witch ghosts are attempting to walk through the food table, as if trying to absorb the food that’s there. One ghost keeps going back and forth while another spins in circles in the Yorkshire pudding that has three cockroaches milling around in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I think this is our longest chapter yet, so we really hope you enjoy it and please, please do let us know your thoughts! We love feedback!!!!
> 
> We also recommend listening to Fernando by ABBA when you get a little farther down in the chapter. You'll know when. :)

By the time Remus gets down to the Greenhouses, he is three minutes late for their official patrol start time. The note, which had been hand delivered to him by a Ravenclaw first year girl, written in Elsea’s elegant script, had politely informed him she would be running a few minutes late in the Greenhouses and _would he just so be a doll and meet her there?_ There had been a faint scent of roses in bloom on the paper, and he had to resist the urge to bring the two sweet kisses (signed, xx) to his nose for a inconspicuous sniff.

 

“Sorry I’m late!” Remus calls in greeting, hands stuffed into the pockets of his robes to insulate him from the cold. The red and gold Gryffindor scarf around his neck did nothing to stop that frigid October night wind. Scotland is entirely unforgiving in its weather. “Your minion was running, so it’s hardly my fault.”

 

Elsea, who has her back to him, washing her hands in the small sink in the back, glances at him over her shoulder. It’s a flip of long, honey hair, and a bright, pearly white smile. “Really? Consider her fired.”

 

“Well, I don’t want to get anyone fired from their livelihood. How will she pay for the wife and kids?” he asks, his fingers curling around the paper in his pocket. “Should I have tipped her?”

 

“She’ll be fine,” Elsea insists, splashing her wet hands directly at Remus. “Her wife is loaded I hear, insider trading with Gringotts.”

 

Remus, admittedly, has no idea what that means. “Well she’s got it made then.”

 

“Despite the illegal activity, I suppose so.”

 

“Illegal activity?”

 

“Hey now, don’t worry your cute little head about her.” Elsea wipes her hands on her robes, which Remus is surprised at, before turning around and moving towards an opened cupboard in the back. “Just got to lock some things up and then we can get going. Sprout left me with a few top secret, high security plants.”

 

“High security plants?” Remus steps further into the room, running his hand along the work table. “Like what?”

 

“Can’t tell you,” she teases, wagging her finger at him like if he’s a small child. “High security, remember? However, I can let you in on another, much cooler, much more interesting secret.”

 

“Oh really?” Remus says, folding his arms skeptically and leaning against a nearby ledge. “Because it just sounds like you’re trying to distract me from the high security plants.”

 

Those high security plants, Remus can see, are underneath a bright fluorescent light in the back cupboard. The entire greenhouse has a certain earthy smell he associates with his mother; before his attack she used to spend hours in their back garden. But this smell has a bit more of a kick to it, and reminds him a bit of the wizard weed Sirius likes to roll into spliffs now and again.

 

“I’m not!” Elsea hollers from the cupboard. “And if you don’t want to know, fine. I’ll just keep all the fun to myself.”

 

“Well that’s not very fair.”

 

“Do you want to know or not?”

 

Remus sighs. He really does want to know. One of the many curses of being Remus Lupin is being a nosy little wank. “Fine. Tell me.”

 

Elsea slams the cupboard shut fiercely, the sound echoing through the room. She waves her wand in front of it, then, unfazed, she continues to strut across the room. Remus thinks, this is _it_ , this is the Elsea Holmes he’s come to know and like. Relatively, that is.

 

She smirks knowingly at his expression before running her hand across the now impossibly clean work table. Remus just stares at her.

 

“What?” she snaps, though Remus didn’t say anything. “I don’t want to sit on something nasty. You’d be surprised at the crazy shit growing in this greenhouse.”

 

“Well don’t sit,” Remus replies. “We’ve got patrol to do, remember?” His tone is teasing, but he is mildly-sort-of serious. Since he’s made up with Lily (kind of), and because he is Remus Lupin, Stick Up His Arse (a nickname James has kindly endowed upon him), he does think they need to get their patrol underway soon.

 

Elsea frowns. “Aw, well fine. I guess you won’t know about my top secret, high security plant project.”

 

Like Remus, she might sound like she’s teasing, but he knows she’s absolutely serious. So Remus, who feels a little bad, pushes the door open and waves his hand for her to go first. “Your highness.”

 

Elsea, who looks like she might have just seen You Know Who in the flesh, gapes at him.

 

“What did you just call me?”

 

Remus blinks. “Um… your highness?”

 

“Was that a pothead joke?” Elsea asks, frowning sarcastically. “Because I thought we were past that.”

 

“No it was me trying to be a _gentleman_ ,” Remus says, frowning. It’s like he can never win with her. “But yes, since you’re a bit of a stoner, I figured your highness would be the best thing to call you.”

 

“Clever.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“How long did it take you to come up with that? Weeks? Months? Were you waiting to meet me and forge this whole friendship so you could use that joke one day? It’s brilliant.”

 

“You _caught_ me.”

 

They saunter out out onto the grounds, letting the lights of the castle guide them back.

 

“We should go off schedule tonight,” Elsea suggests offhandedly. Remus can barely make out her expression in dark of the grounds, all he can see is the shadows of her eye lashes cast across her impossibly sharp cheekbones. “Because we’re here already, you know. The grounds. We’ll make better time.”

 

They had planned themselves quite a routine since the whole patrolling business started. An exact opposite routine than Lily initially instructed. First the astronomy tower, to get any love birds out of the way. Then the kitchens, to grab an impromptu snack and refreshments - for the next place, the grounds, which always involves the treachery of hills and rabbit holes. The last place they always went was the dungeons, just because it is almost directly below Ravenclaw Tower and Elsea never wore sensible shoes. And did she complain, complain like _hell_ about it every time. At that point in the night: the closer to her room, the better for _everyone_.

 

“I guess that’s fine.” Remus shrugs. “You’re okay with no kitchens stop?”

 

“I’ll just get some water after,” Elsea replies, turning left to continue surveying the grounds. “I’m not even thirsty.”

 

“ _Yet_. Are you at least wearing the right shoes tonight?”

 

“Right shoes.” Elsea scoffs. “As if any of my shoe choices have ever been _wrong_.”

 

“I meant trainers, Elsea. None of those ankle boot contraptions.”

 

She stops short, folding her arms over her chest. “Did you just call my little brown suede, calfskin boots a contraption? Those are works of _art_.”

 

“I’m sure they’re right up there on the Sistine Chapel.” Remus snorts.

 

“ _Art_ , Remus.”

 

“You’ve tripped in them a record twelve times in the past month and a half.”

 

“They’re art.”

 

“I’ve had to set your ankle back into place _twice_.”

 

“ _Art_.”

 

Remus sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re impossible. Who the hell would even want to wear art on their feet? That’s how they get ruined.”

 

“Not if you’re careful,” Elsea says, and Remus glares at her, because she isn’t really ever careful. “If it’s such a problem, you know you could _just--_ ”

 

“Lifting. Charm.” Beating a dead hippogriff, she is.

 

“Why are you so obsessed with lifting charms? Is there a problem with your arms?” Elsea giggles at herself, then proceeds to grab Remus by the biceps and give a good, elongated squeeze. “Not bad, actually.”

 

They hold that position for what feels like ages, with Elsea staring up at him, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, one eyebrow raised slightly higher than the other, suggesting something that Remus could never agree to. Ever since Hogsmeade, Elsea has been constantly searching for some sort of segue into close (non-Remus approved) contact. Whether she was “tripping” into his lap turning potions class or bumping his side while walking on patrol, there was always some reason for her to touch him.

 

Remus is no idiot, he knows what she’s doing. He also knows she’s growing impatient. He knew that when James told him way back when to just let what happens, happen, it would reach the point of no return. As in her hand shoved in his pants, or something.

 

Looking at her now, a little too close for comfort on the grounds at night, _alone_ , he felt himself approaching that so-called point.

 

Peeling her hands off his arms and shaking his head, he suggests, “Let’s get moving, it’s freezing out here.”

 

“Fine,” Elsea pouts, this time. She’s not even trying to mask her displeasure anymore. “ _Whatever_.”

 

_Problem averted_ , Remus thinks, silently praising himself. Although, not too much.

 

 

-.-

 

Elsea feels a familiar numbness in her toes as they climb up the Astronomy Tower stairs. Of course, that numbness will be ignored, because she doesn’t need Remus Lupin giving her shit about _that_ anymore. Though, she can’t deny the fact she likes the attention. Okay, _loves_. She loves the attention.

 

“How you doing back there?” Remus calls, looking over his shoulder with what Elsea has determined as his flirty, self-important expression. His brown eyes are squinted down at her like he’s just told a very witty joke.

 

“Perfectly fine, thank you!” Elsea retorts. She’s about ten steps behind him now and the distance is getting longer every second. She needs a way to distract him from her slowness. “You know, Remus, now that we’re such good friends, don’t you think it’s weird that I hardly know a thing about you?”

 

“Hm?” Remus hums.

 

“Hardly _anything_.”

 

“Shame.”

 

“ _Remus_ ,” Elsea whines. “I know you’re not well versed in social queues, but that was _me_ asking _you_ to provide some personal information about yourself. A silly anecdote about when you were a wee lad. A heart wrenching tale about your father. Something. Anything. Cough it up, mate.”

 

“No.”

 

“Remus!” she starts, then pauses. “I’ve just realized I don’t know your middle name. That’s horrid!”

 

Remus snorts, coming to a stop at the top of the stairs. “First off, I don’t know what you want me to say. Second, do we really have to resort to this? Do you honestly feel like you _don’t_ know me? Based on just, well, you know... sharing the same air as me? Doing your thing in my vicinity and what not?”

 

“Well, yeah, of course,” Elsea says, all caught up with him now. “But that’s not the same thing. All that stuff just made me more _curious_. I know you love following most rules and you sometimes have a stick up your bum.” He shoots her a look.”But fine, I’ll think of something I’ve been wondering since the beginning.”

 

“Okay,” he heaves a fake sigh, “shoot.”

 

Elsea pauses thoughtfully. She has to make it a good one.

 

“Why do they call you Moony?”

 

Remus raises his eyebrows, a look that Elsea has come to recognize is a defense mechanism. He’s uncomfortable. Well, that must mean it’s something embarrassing. Even better. “Why does Blackwater call you Bitch Face?” he asks, instead of answering to Elsea’s annoyance.

 

“Oh piss off Remus, that’s self explanatory.” Elsea rolls her eyes and then points dramatically at her own face, which is, she knows, making a killer bitch face. “See.”

 

Remus folds his arms over his chest and pretends to inspect closely. “Aw, yes. I do see.”

 

Elsea smacks his bicep. Another solid hit.

 

“Is it really that personal? Like you really can’t tell me?” she prys fruitlessly.

 

Remus shrugs. “I have better stories.”

 

She didn’t expect that. “You do? Please tell.”

 

He looks at her and she thinks maybe he’s about to open up. But then, he brings his finger to his lips and effectively shushes her before pushing open the Astronomy Tower door.

 

Dejected, Elsea glares viciously at his back before removing her wand from her pocket and following him in.

 

Twenty minutes later, they’ve handed out eight different detentions for four different snogging couples. Elsea, who has never really used the Astronomy Tower for anything other than smoking with Archie, can’t help but commend them for their excellent and creative use of the place. However, she wishes Remus felt the same. At least enough to go there with her at some point.

 

Recently, and Elsea can’t exactly mark off when exactly, it seems like Remus and her have entered some sort of strange, transitional stage in their relationship. Everything is so important now. Every word that leaves Remus’ mouth causes a parade of questions through Elsea’s mind. _Is he insulting me? Or is he flirting? Why is he staring at me? Am I ugly, or does he want to kiss me?_ It’s a constant struggle on her part and frankly, an exhausting one. Elsea is so tired that she’s found herself growing transparent; her come-ons aren’t even subtle anymore. They’re just plain, pathetic come-ons. She may as well be Sirius Black on a good day.

 

However, Remus still hasn’t left because of it. In fact, at times it’s almost like he’s enjoying himself. So she’s decided it’s best to keep on with what she’s doing.

 

Although it would be nice to see some sort of change in his demeanor or something. Perhaps he should try coming on to her. Elsea quite likes the idea of that.

 

“Hey Elsea,” Remus says, and she almost dies on the spot.

 

“Yes?”

 

“So this one time,” Remus begins, cracking his knuckles. Elsea hates when people do that, but honestly Remus could eat a live bug in front of her and she probably wouldn’t care. “I was about nine, I think it was before Hogwarts. I was fishing with my Dad in Lincolnshire out on my Uncle’s boat. It was about the same time as year as it now, so it was bloody cold out, but apparently - and this is my Uncle’s word, not mine, - that’s the best time to catch freshwater carp. So there I was, sitting on the edge of the boat with my little kid fishing rod, it had little footballs on it, when I felt something _pull_. Like, really hard.”

 

Elsea is bewildered by whatever is going on and why it’s going on, but she goes along with it anyway. “What happened?”

 

“Turns out that it was a huge fish. Like, the size of a donkey. Or a small horse.”

 

“ _No_ , you’re exaggerating. This is muggle fishing right?”

 

“Yes. And I’m not. It was huge, but that’s not even the best part. So since I was a proper idiot at nine years old, I didn’t tell my Dad or my Uncle. I just figured ‘hey, I’m a big boy, I can handle this.’ And I did. Kind of. When I started to reel it in the fish put up a huge fight and, well, it pulled me in.”

 

“ _No way_.”

 

“I almost drowned. The fish dragged me nearly a mile before my uncle jumped in and fished me out. He had to do CPR and everything. My lips were blue for about a week, and I got a nasty cold. I was in bed for two months.”

 

“That’s… terrible.”

 

“Yeah, it was,” Remus says, proudly. “And that’s why I don’t swim. That’s why I’ll _never_ swim again.”

 

“Aw, _Remus_ ,” Elsea gushes. That had to be the cutest thing she’s ever heard. Who knew a tall, manly, _Gryffindor_ is afraid of the water after a fishing accident. “I can’t believe you’re afraid of the water. That’s so… childish.”

 

“You weren’t suffocated by a demon fish,” Remus tells her, frowning. “And it’s not childish. Apparently Godric Gryffindor was afraid of the sea too.”

 

“Doubt it.” Elsea gets really close to him and reaches her hand up to pinch his cheek condescendingly, but he grabs her hand and places it at her side before any of that can happen. “Was that you telling me a story? By the way? Because that’s not exactly what I meant, but I did enjoy it.”

 

“Not what you meant?” Remus asks, looking baffled as they exit the Astronomy Tower. “You mean you don’t feel like you know me _significantly_ better now at all?”

 

“You’re such a wanker,” Elsea says. “And not enough. I wanted to know about your life, like with your friends, and family, and I don’t know… girlfriends?”

 

Not subtle. Not subtle at all. Elsea wants to run back up to the Astronomy Tower and jump off due to her sudden lack of game - but it’s crunch time. And she can’t give up just yet.

 

Remus laughs, slightly at Elsea’s expense, but not in a way that makes her feel like a complete arsehole. “I have a mum and dad. My mum’s a muggle, so I’m a halfblood. No siblings, but I rather like my parents. They mean well, you know? You know my friends, they’re idiots. And I’m sure you know about the _one_ girlfriend I’ve ever had because you’ve said it yourself, _Anya_ is a brilliant gossip.”

 

Elsea side eyes him slowly, thinking about her next step. But she realizes that’s ridiculous, and she ought to stop thinking so bloody hard. It’s throwing her off. Her instincts haven't failed her yet. Well, except that time she yanked out a gram in front of Remus on their first patrol, but anyway, a girl can have one or two failed moments.

 

“I might have _heard_ a thing or two,” Elsea chirps. They’ve descended the Astronomy Tower by now, and are making their way to the nearest corridor. Elsea is twirling her wand in her hand absentmindedly, aware of Remus’ shoulders distance from hers. _Bloody hell_ , she thinks, _get a god damn grip_. “Though, I’ve always believed you can’t trust gossip. If I could get it straight from the source, well…”

 

Remus keeps a serious face as he looks down at her from the corner of his eye. “You’re a model student, Elsea Holmes.”

 

“Thanks, I know.” Elsea laughs, mostly to herself on behalf of her secret drug ring. “So what’s the deal?”

 

“Did I tell you Sirius dropped the L bomb offhandedly the other day? And he wanted me to tell you to tell Anya that he’d like to invite her the Gryffindor Halloween party. As his date,” Remus explains. “But that’s not a thing, right? I wasn’t going to ask because she’s all lost on Blackwater?”

 

“First of all,” Elsea starts, “you’re changing the subject. I want to know about your ex girlfriend, tosser. Second, Anya hates Sirius. And third, how the hell did you know that?”

 

“I just know things,” Remus says, and Elsea almost shouts at him but he artfully continues at just the right time, “she’s _always_ just staring at him. When we were on our double date at Hogsmeade she got all sad when she saw him that girl.”

 

“Wow,” Elsea says. Not because she’s impressed, but because Remus had just said the words, “double date” in reference to _her_.

 

“I pay attention to things, you know. Gryffindors aren’t belligerently trying to save the lives of civilians all the time. We can be just as clever as a Ravenclaw if we want.” He pauses, then knocks his shoulder against Elsea’s. “And you lot have tendency to whisper very loudly in potions. It’s a bit more like shouting. Does Blackwater know? I’m telling you, you’re awfully loud. He must know.”

 

Elsea feels her ears redden as she knocks her shoulder back against his. Take that, she thinks. She’s on sensory overload. The flirting, the casual touching, the mentions of _dates_. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think Remus is actually heading in the same direction she is.

 

“He doesn't know,” she says, shaking her head. “Anya would rather die than have him know. He’s supposed to fall in love on his own, her words, not mine. Apparently it’s more poetic that way. It’s absolute wank, if you ask me.”

 

“You think?”

 

“Yeah, it would be much easier if people would just, you know, _say what they’re feeling_.”

 

Remus blinks, looks at Elsea, then somewhere in the distance. “So you wanted to hear about my ex?” he asks.

 

-.-

 

Remus can’t help it, baiting Elsea Holmes by dangling something shiny on the end of a stick and watching her scramble for it has to be one of the most entertaining things he’s done in a long time. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

 

Her eyes widen in shock and her mouth probably would have dropped open had the staircase they’d been on not shift mid-air and descend straight towards the second floor. She sputters, lurching forward and grabbing onto the railing for support. Remus, who is cool as a cucumber, hides a smirk.

 

“Once,” he begins, “Sirius and I--”

 

“Oh sod off with those bloody stories,” Elsea cries, straightening up and glaring at him. “Tell me about Willa before I hex that stupid smirk off your face.”

 

“I _was_ telling you about Willa, if you’d just be a little patient. I was starting at the beginning.”

 

“Okay, okay. Keep starting. _Go_.”

 

Elsea looks like she ran a mile, and he almost feels bad, considering the fact that he’s really not far off from as tense as she is right now, but he keeps his tone the same.

 

“Once,” he begins again, Elsea sighs frustratedly, “Sirius and I were playing wizard’s chess in the dining hall in our fifth year when this girl I had never met before runs up to me and tells me that Willa Jones fancies me. I couldn’t bloody believe it, because I had only spoken to her twice and she seemed more interested in Sirius each time, but I wasn’t about to turn her down. So I told the girl to tell Willa to meet me out by the boathouse after lunch and she full on kissed me. Then we broke up. Fascinating, huh?”

 

Remus hates that story. Remus hates everything about that phase of his life, well, for the most part. It had been absolutely reckless, just dating a girl when he was a full-fledged dangerous werewolf. He also hates telling it to Elsea, because she looks sadder than he does and he can’t figure out _why_.

 

“Okay,” Elsea says shortly. “That’s… something.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Of all things, Remus didn’t expect awkwardness to be a part of Elsea’s reaction. Especially connected to a story that is actually juvenile if you think about it. Perhaps it’s the allusiveness of the part between the kiss and the “then we broke up,” but he couldn’t be sure.

 

“Well, that was a fantastic story Remus,” Elsea chirps, skipping off the last step towards the second floor corridor. Somewhere along the way they decided to quite literally skip the rest of the castle, and honestly, Remus doesn’t care that much anymore. “But you missed loads. Like the middle bits, and you know, first snogs, first I love yous, first…. _shags_?”

 

Remus blinks at her. But then a sneaky grin twists onto her face as she walks backward down the corridor. That cheeky little bird, he thinks. “Elsea Holmes are you asking me if I shagged Willa Jones?”

 

“God no,” Elsea waves it off, “what kind of girl do you think I am?”

 

He can’t stop himself this time. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

 

Then he regrets it. Because the self-satisfied look Elsea’s face is enough to make him want to crawl in a hole and die there.

 

“Actually,” Remus says quickly, but trying to keep his cool. “Keep that to yourself.”

 

Her face falls slightly, if he weren’t overanalyzing her to bits he probably wouldn’t have noticed it. “So you don’t want to know all about my crazy awesome sex life?”

 

“Not really,” Remus says, voice an octave higher than it should be. “Not at all, actually.”

 

“That would be a first,” Elsea says, looking only slightly put off. Remus knows it’s because he’s the one blushing now. He’s the one hiding his face. Before she can tease him any longer, there’s a scuffling sound and Elsea and Remus turn back into Prefect Mode, in which they both hold their wands out in front of them and screech, “Freeze! Prefects!”

 

Remus darts down the corridor, using Lumos to bring light to the darkness, and spots a pair of girls cowering near a suit of armor. Elsea joins him in a few seconds and together they stalk over to the girls.

 

“What are you doing out past curfew?” Remus asks, holding his wand before him as Elsea pockets hers and pulls out a detention slip notepad. The girls before him, two Gryffindors who he recognizes as sixth years, have rosy cheeks and glassy eyes. His eyes dart to their hands, which are hiding behind their backs.

 

The blonde girl, who actually looks about thirteen and not sixteen, has freakishly large eyes and bright, smeared red lips. “Just,” she hiccups, “out for a midnight stroll.”

 

Elsea snorts and doesn’t bother to look up from the notepad as she fills it in. “Where are the boys?”

 

“What boys?” the other girl asks.

 

“The boys you are meeting so you can go _snog_ , obviously.” Elsea says it as if she’s got no time to deal with them. “Where are they?”

 

“There are no boys,” the blonde insists, “just us.” Then, she hiccups again and the flask in her hands topples to the ground. It makes a loud CRACK! and Remus glances down to look at it. “Oh Merlin!”

 

He and Elsea just glance at each other.

 

Five minutes later, Elsea and Remus leave Camilla McKinnon and Dorcas Meadows to scurry back up to their dormitory with freshly printed detention slips, with their pockets a little heavier and stuffed full of confiscated alcohol.

 

“Oh sweet,” Elsea says, opening the flask to take a whiff. She pulls it away quickly, her face screwing into a frown. “No – _never mind_. Fireball. _Disgusting_.”

 

“More like delicious.” Remus snatches it from her. “I’ll be keeping that, then.”

 

“No fair. You’re supposed to hand that to _Lily_.”

 

“Does that matter? Has that ever mattered?” Remus holds the flask in front of his face. “Lily Evans can--” he pauses, and decides against it.

 

“Lily Evans can _what_ , Remus?” Elsea teases, reaching up on her tiptoes to snag the flask from his hands. He moves it out of the way just in time. “Finish your sentence.”

 

“No,” he decides, turning to look down at her with a smirk. “I’d rather not.”

 

“Oh _come on_. If you’re going to defy the dictator, you’ve got to go all out.”

 

“She can...” Remus’ face curls into a smirk. “She can probably take a shot a fireball and _you_ can’t.”

 

“Oh so you’re challenging me now? Fine.” Elsea snatches the flask out of his hands, finally, unscrewing the cap and holding it up to her lips. “Pray for me,” she says, and then takes a deep, long sip. One that makes even Remus cringe.

 

“Oh my GOD!” Elsea cries, as if she hadn’t expected it to be terrible. “Oh, Remus! God, that’s awful!”

 

She starts coughing melodramatically and he can’t help but burst into laughter.

 

“You realize you’re going to be nearly trashed in five minutes, right? That shit is like the High Rollers weed-”

 

“-No it’s not,” Elsea argues quickly, too quickly. “I only know that because I’m a frequent. By the way.”

 

“Ah, but not a fireball frequent, obviously,” Remus replies, snagging the flask once and for all from her hands and pocketing it.

 

“You’re not gonna take a sip?” she asks, and then whispers not-so-quietly, “Lame.”

 

“Lame?” Remus quirks an eyebrow and attempts to not look quite so satisfied. He is shamefully loving their conversation, their banter. It’s hard not to; Elsea is bloody flattering. “Perhaps I’m the responsible adult.”

 

“Oh blah blah,” Elsea retorts, swinging her arm through Remus’ and tugging him back towards the dungeons. “You’re a buzzkill, is what you are.”

 

“You’re a pusher,” Remus replies, “you push people into doing things they don’t want to do.”

 

“Yeah,” Elsea agrees, to his surprise, “because it’s _fun_. Now take a bloody sip before I die of boredom.”

 

Just then, she giggles and staggers to the left.

 

“You won’t be dying of boredom anytime soon,” Remus helps steady her, “not with that fireball in your bloodstream.”

 

“It’s in my belly, not my bloodstream.” Elsea snorts. “Come on.”

 

“That isn’t how it works.”

 

“You’re _such_ a nerd. Holy shit, Remus, my legs feel wobbly already.”

 

“Lightweight.”

 

“ _Remus_ ,” she whines, and he can’t remember another time she’s said his name so much. “At least be my guide down these steps. I couldn’t seriously injure my pretty face. Money maker, you know?”

 

“I am helping you, I’ve got your arm.”

 

“Oh, ha, right.”

 

Remus resists an eyeroll, and helps her down the short staircase to the dungeons. It’s dark, pitch black as usual, so he casts a simple lumos charm and the tip of his wand ignites.

 

“You know, I have a theory,” Elsea says once they’re at the bottom of the stairs. She’s clinging onto him now, and Remus can smell her apricot shampoo. “Do you want to hear it?”

 

“Do I ever!” he replies, sarcastically. Elsea doesn’t catch this.

 

“So there are like, two kinds of drunks.”

 

“People?”

 

“No, like _being_ drunks. You know what I mean? Like that warm, everything is fantastic, buzz drunk. It’s kind of like being high but much more feely. You get it when you drink wine.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“And then there’s fireball, whiskey, liquor _drunk_. Like I’m gonna go fuck up some lives drunk just because I have no sense of emotion at the moment, drunk. You ever been that way? You feel invincible, you know?”

 

“I guess.” Remus responds, he has no idea where she’s going.

 

“Which do you like better?”

 

Remus mulls over this momentarily. Not because he doesn’t know the answer (read: both are good depending on the occasion), but because he doesn’t want to choose the wrong one.

 

Luckily, he is saved from answering when a loud crash sounds from down the hall. Elsea, whose reaction time is already gone to shit, stumbles a few seconds after, looking down the hall after Remus has already taken off.

 

“Seriously?” she hollers, stumbling after him in her heels. He doesn’t bother to look behind him; he reckons she’s probably fallen on her face already. Though, he has to smile at that thought. “Wait the fuck up!”

 

He gets to the end of the corridor, ready to give some Slytherins a weeks worth of detention, when he pushes open the potions classroom door and finds, much to his dismay, _not_ a pack of Slytherins up to no good.

 

“What the _fuck_?” he gasps.

 

“Ghost party!” Elsea shouts, jumping on his back. He catches her legs without looking, staring at the buffet table of rotting food surrounded by what seems like fifty or so ghosts. The only one he recognizes is Sir Nicholas, who is chatting to a female ghost that’s dressed like a viking.

 

“Nearly-” He stops and corrects himself, “Sir Nicholas!” Remus waves one hand wildly, gently letting go of Elsea’s ankle at the same time. As she reaches the ground, she wanders forward without caution, waving to Peeves as if they were long time friends.

 

“Remus Lupin? Out of bed _after hours_?” Sir Nicholas jeers, floating towards him joyously. “I thought you were the good one of your bunch.”

 

“I’m a prefect, actually. On patrol.” Remus corrects, pointing to his badge. “What is this? What’s with the rotten food? It reeks, man.”

 

“It was for any human guests, but it was all we could get from the house elves considering the rivalry Peeves started with them last month. Fireworks. Everywhere. You couldn’t imagine the trouble he got us in.”

 

He’s wrong, Remus definitely _could_ imagine.

 

“No one in their right mind is going to eat that, hate to break it to you. But what is this? What’s going on?” Remus continues to prod. He spots Elsea whispering with Peeves in a corner, now. Leave it to her to befriend the most annoying ghost at Hogwarts. Or of all time, probably.

 

“It’s the Bloody Barron’s death day. Six hundred years, can you believe that? I feel like he just died _yesterday_.”

 

“Yeah,” Remus says wearily, “unbelievable.”

 

“Well you and your fellow prefect are welcome to stay, if you please. We’re about to do a _limbo_.”

 

“Tempting, but I really don’t think we can,” Remus explains, Sir Nicholas’ face falls. “Just, you know. Prefect duties. We still have check out the rest of the dungeons and the, well, just everywhere really. But thank you. Really.”

 

There’s an awkward pause, in which Nick, who looks like he wants to get back to his party guests, stares blankly at Remus. Remus has never been to put off by the corporally challenged, but now that he can see Elsea through Nick’s stomach, he’s feeling a bit sick.

 

“Have a nice night,” he mumbles, nodding at Nick before turning on his heels and heading to see Elsea. She’s alone now, studying the table of food and frowning seriously.

 

“This is disgusting, I think it breaks like, fifty health codes.”

 

“Yeah, well, we’d better get going. Want to finish soon,” Remus explains. “I’m knackered.”

 

Elsea eyes him curiously. “It’s Friday. What have you got to get to bed for?”

 

“I just told you I’m knackered.”

 

“Oh boo hoo,” Elsea clutches his arms, again, “live a little. Stay with me for a bit, yeah?”

 

“You wanna stay?” Remus asks, genuinely surprised. He had heard Elsea is quite the party girl, but he didn’t think she on the ghost party level.

 

“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” Elsea says. “If we’re drunker, at least.”

 

She winks.

 

Remus grins. It’s wrong but he truly is knackered, knackered from fighting whatever tension has been running thick in the air between him and Elsea. Perhaps he should stay, drink a little fireball, mingle with some dead folks. It wouldn’t _hurt_. And if it did, he’s sure it would hurt less than leaving by himself. Or the thought of leaving a tipsy Elsea at a party, alone.

 

“Fine, but I’m getting proper wasted,” Remus says. “Like the second type of wasted, from in your theory. Let’s go.”

 

Elsea’s eyes widen in surprise, then she fumbles to yank the flask out of _Remus’_ pocket. Her fingers brush against his, well, _junk_ , and he can’t help but make a strangled, suffering noise when she finally retrieves the flask and holds it in front of his face. She either doesn’t notice or acts like she doesn’t notice. He’s not sure which is worse.

 

“Well, get on with it then.”

 

-.-

 

 

“Are you there yet?” Elsea asks, or whispers, in Remus’ ear. They’ve just finished standing, holding the limbo stick on the for the past fifteen minutes, getting progressively drunker as the night went on. Apparently, the head ghost in charge of the party purchased a muggle product, therefore one one but Remus and Elsea could hold it. The perks of being alive.

 

“Where?” Remus asks, his eyes have a glazed, drunken twinkle to them. His cheeks are a fiery red, too, which a basic tell-tale of wastedness if Elsea’s ever known one. She pats his cheek kindly, like he’s a child.

 

“Drunk.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Remus blinks, then nods his head. “Yeah I’m about there.”

 

“Fantastic.” Elsea beams at him. She feels herself smiling her most full-out, ugly smile. The one that makes her eyes all squinty and her upper lip thin out. But, of course, she doesn’t care. Not when they’re standing in their own corner of a dark dungeon. “I want to dance.”

 

Remus groans.

 

“Oh come on,” she says, sneakily taking his hands from his sides and holding them. “It’s a _party_. We have to at least do the Wizard slide.”

 

“No, we definitely do _not_ ,” he argues, but he doesn’t pull his hands away.

 

“But that’s the best dance for people like you,” Elsea teases.

 

“People like me?”

 

“Yeah, non-dancers. It’s okay, I’m one too.”

 

Remus snorts, rather loudly, and bumps his hips against hers. “Hey, check them.”

 

Ahead of them, two rather plump witch ghosts are attempting to walk through the food table, as if trying to absorb the food that’s there. One ghost keeps going back and forth while another spins in circles in the Yorkshire pudding that has three cockroaches milling around in it.

 

Elsea, who thinks that is possibly the most unamusing thing she’s ever seen, especially when Remus Lupin is standing next to her, on his way to drunk town, fakes interest. “Oh wow, cool.”

 

Remus looks down at her. “At least pretend you’re interested.”

 

Elsea blinks up at him, mustering a puppy-dog look. Though, she is called Bitch Face, so she’s certain it doesn’t really look sweet. Probably maniacal. “Oh wow!” she tries with a lighter voice. “Cool!”

 

“Much better,” Remus slings an arm around her shoulders and produces the flask from his pocket, “another, perhaps?”

 

“Oh perhaps!” Elsea snatches it from his hands and pours a nearly lethal amount into her mouth. It burns, but she feels instantly better. Looser. Like maybe she could totally mount Remus here and no one would blink an eye at it.

 

“Save some for me,” he whines, taking it back and pouring some in his own mouth. Elsea, who is entirely lusting after him at this point, stares dreamily at his lips. He has really nice lips, she decides. Nice full lips, definitely made for a proper snog.

 

He’s not bad in the pants area either, from what she noticed when she accidentally brushed his religion in his trousers earlier.

 

Bloody hell, he’s perfect? Isn’t he?

 

“Remember when you called me a lightweight before?” Elsea asks rhetorically. Remus shrugs and takes a sip from the flask. “Look at yourself.”

 

“Me?” Remus hiccups, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “I’m fine. Look at you! You’re the one who is all…”

 

He trails off, then snorts.

 

“I’m what, Remus?” she probes.

 

“You’re…” he stammers, looking at her and then looking away. “You’re all sweaty!”

 

“What the hell!” Elsea cries, but can’t help laughing. She smacks him in the arm. “You can’t just tell a girl she’s sweaty!”

 

“Why it’s not like you smell bad but like,” he pauses, then chuckles, “you’re glistening.”

 

“That’s disgusting. Thanks, now I’m _insecure_.”

 

“Please,” Remus says passively, and then, out of absolutely nowhere, he sweeps Elsea into his arms. “You couldn’t be insecure if you tried.”

 

Elsea doesn’t answer. She can’t breathe.

 

“Maybe I can be,” Elsea chokes out, and suddenly Remus snakes his arms around her waist and tugs her closer. She finds herself, seconds later, with her arms around his neck. And they’re rocking. “You’re dancing with me.”

 

“Yeah, don’t say anything about it,” he mumbles back, “or I might quit.”

 

“You’re a prat sometimes, you know that?” Elsea replies. “It drives me bloody insane.”

 

There’s a strange record player like instrument in the back of the room, playing old-timey music that really isn’t conducive to dance to, but they’re doing it anyway. A few ghosts around the walls are swaying to the music.

 

After a few moments, in which Elsea inconspicuously tried to smell Remus’ hair, he says, “This music is ruddy awful.”

 

“Oi!” Elsea cries, feeling brave. The ghost near the music player looks at her. “Is this trash going to play all night?”

 

“I can't change it,” the ghost shrugs. “I’m not all there, you see.”

 

“I’ll say!” A female ghost next to him pips up. The room chortles with laughter. She ignores them, and eyes the basket of records next to the player. Her face twists into a sick grin as she detaches herself from Remus (not before interlocking her fingers in his) and hurries over to the record player.

 

“We’ll have to take care of this ourselves,” she says to him, rifling through the basket. Remus hovers over her, making comments about the records and seriously surprising her with his music taste. “The Kinks?”

 

“What bloody ghost has a Kinks record?” Remus asks, narrowing his eyes and putting his hands into the basket around her. “What ghost has records at all?”

 

Elsea picks up a random record and turns it around. On the back a white sticker is pasted to the left corner that says _Property of Jason Goldenburger, Hufflepuff, 7th year. Please return if found, man._

 

“Did he donate his record collection to a bloody ghost party?” Remus asks. Elsea never responds, because a particular album caught her eye.

 

“That goon,” she says, picking it up, “I can’t believe he likes _ABBA_.”

 

“Who doesn't like ABBA?” Remus asks.

 

Elsea beams up at him. Is a marriage proposal too forward?

 

“You can’t be serious,” Elsea nearly shouts it at him, she’s so excited. The way he’s smiling is completely unsarcastic, it makes her want to kiss him every time he breathes. “You like ABBA. Are you a girl? I thought you liked _punk_.”

 

“I do like punk, The Clash are my favorite band,” Remus explains, “but Fernando is in my top ten.”

 

“It’s in mine too. Fuck, it’s in my top five, Remus.”

 

“You know what? It could be in my top five,” Remus says, looking at the ceiling, mulling things over. “Yeah, it’s good enough. Why are we still talking about this? Put it on.”

 

Elsea shoots him a crooked grin before removing the previous record and sliding the new one in. She smiles as the familiar opening to Fernando starts to play, and before she knows what is happening, Remus has grabbed her hands and tugged her back onto the dance floor.

 

“We’re dancing?” Elsea asks. “ _Okay_.”

 

“Yeah we are,” Remus says, trying to spin her. Elsea stays put, staring at him skeptically. “What? Do you normally sit still when listening to ABBA? That’s weird.”

 

“We’re dancing to an upbeat song, Remus,” Elsea informs him, keeping him at arms length. “I need room to shake it. Unless you can tango?”

 

Remus, who is positively shit-faced now, shakes his head. “Uh, no.”

 

“Keep up,” Elsea giggles, because everything is funny, and grabs his hands. “ _Can you hear the drums, Fernando?_ ”

 

“Has anyone ever told you?” Remus asks, while shuffling awkwardly side-to-side. “You’re an awful singer.”

 

Elsea doesn’t reply, just lifts his arm to spin herself and continues singing. Around them, a few ghosts seem to be floating to the beat. Remus snickers, but looks dazed, as Elsea spins around again.

 

“Better dancer than singer, though,” Remus continues, then hiccups. “Not by much, though.”

 

Between lines, Elsea glares at him. “Enough talking, more dancing.”

 

Remus opens his mouth to speak, but Elsea promptly yanks him closer so that their chests are touching. She purposefully presses her tits against him, bites down on her lip, and looks up at him through her lashes. That shuts him right up.

 

So he slings his arms around her waist and moves them to the music, though they do stumble quite a bit, as the chorus comes on.

 

“ _There was something in the air that night_ ,” Remus sings, poorly.

 

“ _The stars were bright_ ,” Elsea fills in while together they shout, “ _FERNANDO!_ ”

 

And then Remus steps on her toe and she shouts, loudly.

 

“I’m sorry,” He stops moving, half wanting to laugh, half wanting to kiss her better. “I’m a shit dancer. I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s fine,” Elsea says through her teeth, “How about we call it an evening? Before there are any other foot injuries?”

 

Remus frowns. Maybe he doesn’t want to call it an evening, Elsea thinks.

 

“How about we walk this off?” she offers before he can say anything. “Take a nightly, prefect authorized stroll?”

 

He folds his lips into a straight line, then nods. “I’ll walk you back to your tower.”

 

“You’re too kind.”

 

“I know.”

 

There’s a pause in which Elsea decides to take a risk.

 

Remus stares down at their hands, now entwined, then looks back at Elsea and only laughs. She’s not sure what to make of that, but it’s better than him letting go, despite how sweaty her palm is.

 

-.-

 

They’re holding hands. Elsea is holding Remus’ hand and he is letting it happen.

 

And that’s how he knows how drunk he truly is.

 

He didn’t exactly expect the liquor that Mckinnon girl was holding to be anything but watered down whiskey, or something of that area. However he had been wrong. Dead wrong, and admittedly, he’s not too upset about it.

 

Because no matter how drunk he is, he’s also really enjoying himself. Elsea Holmes is a fun girl. That’s her reputation, a good time if you’re on her good side. Remus is aware that he’s been on her good side easily since day one (even if he did really screw it up at first, he had completely and totally redeemed himself by now), but this is the first time that she’s really let go. This is _real_ fun, he realizes, as they climb another series of stairs, leaning their drunken bodies against each other. It’s been a great night.

 

Remus squeezes her hand a bit, playfully. She looks up at him.

 

“I hope you know that if you scuffed my shoes I’m going to ruin your life, Remus.”

 

He shrugs. “Give it a go. I’m friends with Sirius Black and he could totally be a sociopath.”

 

“I thought he loves Anya?” Elsea asks, giggling.

 

“No he’s up for the _challenge_. He loves the chase, always. Not the girl.”

 

“That’s not fair,” Elsea accuses. “I’m sure he loves his mother.”

 

Remus laughs so hard he has to stop walking.

 

“What?” Elsea asks, “Did I say something funny?”

 

“Sirius’ mum is a bloody psychopath,” Remus snorts, unattractively, “she uh, she’s one of those blood maniacs. You’ve seen his brother right?”

 

“Looks just like him? Slytherin?” Elsea twists her face up, thinking, then nods. “Yeah he buys from-- I mean, he, uh, we buy weed from the same guy.”

 

Remus looks down at her for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, his family is crazy. So, uh, he doesn’t exactly love his mum.”

 

“Hmm,” Elsea taps her chin, “I pegged him for a momma’s boy.”

 

“You were wrong.”

 

“That doesn’t happen often.”

 

“Someone is self-assured.”

 

“Confidence is key, Remus. I can teach you a thing or two.” She knocks their shoulders together. It’s like the fiftieth time it’s happened.

 

“Tell me, oh wise one,” he says as they twist up the stairs to the Ravenclaw Tower, “what is the secret to your success?”

 

“Confidence, I just told you!” Elsea says, then she sighs. “I can’t believe how drunk you are. I’m completely soberish now.”

 

“ _Soberish_ ,” Remus repeats. “Soberish is not sober.”

 

“It’s more put together than you are, you’re a bloody mess.”

 

“I look fine.”

 

“See, that’s it! That’s the confidence!” Elsea snickers, letting go of his arm and skipping ahead of him down the corridor. Remus’ face shifts into a grin as he hurries after her. His head is lofty, and he feels like his limbs are slightly detached from his body. But he makes it just as she turns the corner, and he stumbles a bit, grabbing her hands and accidentally pushing her up against the wall.

 

In the dull moonlight floating through the window across the hall, Remus can see the lazy way Elsea’s eyes slide over him. Her cheeks are pinched rosy and glisten with sweat. Though, he dares not tell her this now. He’s suddenly aware that her chest is heaving up and down and that she’s staring at him, eyes fixed on his lips.

 

“That was forward,” she breathes, a hushed whisper.

 

“I tripped,” is what he would have said had she not leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.

 

Remus, because he is a teenage boy, goes into autopilot. It’s been a while since he’s snogged anyone, maybe an entire year. He can’t even remember the girl’s name, or face, or anything. He just remembers the way he felt, his arms sliding over her body and his tongue shoved into her mouth, and how she tasted like toothpaste and grape soda.

 

Kissing Elsea is completely different.

 

He can’t think about anything at all. It’s just kissing, slow, relieving, kissing. Remus can’t register anything, just her hands sliding up his back, pulling him towards her at the nape of his neck. He can’t even breathe. God.

 

She really is something special, to have gotten him to this point after everything. It terrifies Remus, but it terrifies him even more to stop. Because once he does, there’s no way he can go back for more. This can only happen once, no matter how fantastic it feels. No matter how every single nerve ending he didn’t even know existed feels fiery and new.

 

He’s so alive.

 

She pulls away.

 

“Remus,” she breathes, her eyes still shut. “That was…”

 

“Yeah,” Remus says, his voice low and gravelly. Almost unrecognizable to him.

 

It’s so warm in this corridor.

 

“I-”

 

“-Gotta go.” Remus cuts her off. “See you in class.”

 

He has to go, he can’t stay. Even if he wants to stay and press her against that wall and kiss her until the sun rises. He can’t.

 

Though, that doesn’t mean Remus doesn’t catch the look of utter shock and disappointment on her face as he turns around and hurries off, into the night. He’s sorry about it, but all too satisfied at the same time. Tomorrow, he will worry. Tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITI S HAPPennEEDD!!!! 
> 
> hehe THOUGHTS?????


	11. Under Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re not dying.” Anya rolls her eyes. “You’re having a meltdown. It’s totally normal. I have them all the time.”

Elsea wakes up to a spectacular headache and Anya’s high-pitched voice chattering a mile a minute. Which, this morning, are entirely synonymous.

 

“Three owls, Elsea,” Anya chirps, sitting on the edge of Elsea’s bed in full winter attire despite the fact it’s not even Halloween yet. “Archie sent me _three_.”

 

“Wow. Cool. Same.” Elsea pulls the covers over her head. Archie actually sent her four owls, but she’s not about to tell Anya that. She’s a good friend. “Now please fucking go away.” 

 

Elsea’s not exactly hungover from last night; she didn’t drink nearly enough for that. No, she’s just tired. It was hard to sleep after the kiss, and especially after she found Anya waiting up for her begging for details. She doesn’t remember much after that besides the bare fact of insomnia. “Can we sleep?”

 

“Um, _no_ ,” Anya says, pulling the sheets right off the bed. “It’s 12:30. We have the Puff and Slytherin game in half an hour. And Sirius saved me a seat, even though I asked him not to.”

 

“Okay? Why is he already there?” Elsea drawls. “Besides, I’m not going.” 

 

“Are you crazy? You have to go,” Anya argues. “And you need to fix yourself, desperately. You look like you’ve been trampled by giants. Come on, get dressed. Better yet, shower. _Hurry_.”

 

Elsea really, really, doesn’t want to go. Not only because she has a strong hatred for any and all sports/sportsmanship-like activities, but because there is no way in hell she’s going to be able to avoid Remus. And at the moment, she’s not really sure where they stand, because “see you in class” isn’t exactly a come on.

 

She’s also pretty sure, unless Remus Lupin had miraculously changed into a normal human-being over night, that he will probably act like nothing happened between them. Which would be bad, Elsea can live with it, but it would still suck majorly compared to what she has in mind. For the time being, staying away from Remus seems like the best option.

 

“Excuse me.” Anya snaps her fingers in Elsea’s face, and Elsea can’t help but suddenly miss Archie. This would never happen if he were home. They’d sit in the players box with him and have a chill, normal, _platonic_ time. “Where has your courage gone? Since when are _you_ afraid of a boy?”

 

Elsea narrows her eyes. “Courage? What are you on about, I’m a Ravenclaw. And I’m not afraid of _Remus_ , for fuck’s sake. I’m tired and I hate Quidditch.”

 

She pauses, then points at Anya accusingly. “And you hate Quidditch too. You’ve said it yourself you only watch for _Archie_.”

 

“Yeah? I still only watch for Archie,” Anya says, rolling her eyes. “He told _me_ to tell _him_ about the game, details and everything. I _have_ to go, it’s my duty to my future husband.”

 

“Don’t say shit like that, Anya.” Elsea rolls over, grasping the air aimlessly for some blanket. It’s bloody freezing in Ravenclaw tower. “It makes you sound like a joke.”

 

“It won’t sound like a joke when you’re my maid of honor at _our_ Ibiza wedding, will it? It _still_ won’t feel like a joke when I you’ll be forced to address me as Lady Anya Blackwater, huh?”

 

“I’m going to kindly ask you to the shut the fuck up.”

 

Anya just glares at her, which is a fierce look, even for her.

 

“Fine, don’t come. You can lay in bed all day while someone else goes and flirts with Remus at the game. Because he’s going to look cute, you know that? Bundled up in a scarf and jacket and his nose all pink from the cold. He’s probably going to need someone to cuddle up against. Might as well be Lily Evans. Hell, maybe _Hadley_ will be there.”

 

“Hadley would never flirt with Remus Lupin. She likes Slytherins,” Elsea says, but she knows Anya is right. Even though Remus is a terrible flirt, and probably wouldn’t look at anyone else because he really is such a mess, the idea won’t stop bothering her. Elsea sits up and rolls her shoulders back.

 

“Fine. But we’re showing up late. I have to maintain some level of mystique, you know.”

 

Anya snorts. “Yeah, you’re so damn mystic.”

 

Elsea takes her time in the shower, over thinking every move from the night before. She remembers the way Remus’ hands felt on her hips, and remembers how he tasted like fireball and good decisions. Which, naturally, drives her mad. So she has to backtrack and think about something that totally turns her off. She thinks about Archie. And Anya. Snogging.

 

She takes a few moments to figure her shit out, before emerging from the bathroom with her hair braided, her no-makeup makeup look applied, and wearing a jumper that says “I look fit” but also “I’m not trying too hard.” Though, even with the cutest “relaxed” outfit she can muster, there is still a strange air of impending doom that won’t leave her alone.

 

By the time they make it down to the pitch, the wind is blowing something fierce. Elsea, who had taken absolute care to choose her ensemble, ends up bundled all the way up to her nose in jumpers, jackets, and a Ravenclaw scarf. She looks like an overly stuffed scarecrow, and the rate she’s letting Anya tug her down the grounds, well, she looks completely out of control. 

 

“Anya,” Elsea protests, pulling her friend’s gloved hand back before the entrance of the stands. Anya barely stops, trapped in one of her determined-to-impress-Archie modes, and pulls her along. Elsea tries to follow, but this time, her legs won’t move. “Anya, _stop_.”

 

Anya turns her head quickly, staring at Elsea as if she were replaced by a troll. “What’s your deal? Are you alright?”

 

Elsea opens her mouth to speak, but all she can do is breathe raggedly. Something is wrong. She feels as if she’s standing outside of herself, alone in the cold. “Anya,” Elsea says, finally, but her voice sounds foreign. “I feel…” she pauses, lowering her voice as if to whisper something taboo, “ _weird_.”

 

“Weird? Why?” Anya asks. Her face is scrunched in worry, and there are frown lines littered all over her forehead, peaking out from her pink stocking cap. “Do you think you’re gonna be sick?”

 

“I dunno,” Elsea responds quickly, looking down at her feet. She’s not even wearing her favourite boots, the ones that give her all the power and all the toe pain. Instead she put on trainers in the rush. _Trainers_ , like some kind of lunatic. She’s hit with the sudden urge to pace, almost like she would pass out if she stood at the entryway any longer, staring at her hideous shoes. “I don’t know _anything_.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“My trainers are hideous.”

 

“Those are adorable,” Anya insists, frowning. “How can your trainers make you feel weird?

 

“My head hurts,” Elsea snaps, putting her gloved hands on the sides of her head. She pushes for a while, feeling little relief before the pressure starts to feel suffocating. “These have to go.”

 

Elsea takes of her gloves and drops them in the wet grass. Anya, now frantically following her every move, quietly picks them up.

 

“Do you want to see Madame Pomfrey?” she asks timidly. “I’ll walk you to the infirmary right now, if you want.” Elsea doesn’t answer, instead, she sits down on a pile of raked leaves. Something wet is against her calf, absorbing into her trousers, but she can’t be bothered with that right now. Not when she is physically and mentally unraveling.

 

And then it hits her. 

 

“Oh my God,” Elsea mutters.

 

Anya crouches down to her level, eyes wide with concern. “What?”

 

“I think I’m _nervous_ ,” Elsea says it as if she’s admitting a secret. “Anya, I’m experiencing _panic_.”

 

“Panic?” Anya furrows her brows, then smiles. “Oh. That’s fine, you’ll be okay. Come on.”

 

Elsea doesn’t think so, at all, as her breathing picks up again for no apparent reason. Desperately, she grabs at Anya’s collar, pulling her knees forward into the leaves.

 

“Oh come on Elsea, these are really expensive jeans.” 

 

“Excuse me? I’m having my first freak out and you care about your jeans?” Elsea snaps, her face is close enough to Anya’s that she can feel her asthma. “Make it _stop_.”

 

“I can’t make it stop, you have to make it stop. It’s _your_ problem. I can’t magic it away.”

 

“You can bloody try!” Elsea screeches. And it’s a desperate, unattractive screech that makes two Hufflepuff first year boys stare at them as they pass. Anya quite literally growls at them to look away. “Oh my God, Anya, I think I’m dying.”

 

“You’re not dying.” Anya rolls her eyes. “You’re having a meltdown. It’s totally normal. I have them all the time.”

 

“Sod off!” Elsea shouts. Loudly. A few more passersby stare at them in wonder. Elsea’s hair is sticking to her cheeks and she looks absolutely mental.

 

“This is the most dramatic I’ve ever seen you,” Anya observes, “and I mean that.”

 

Elsea glares. And it is this glare that helps bring her back down to reality. She focuses all her annoyance on Anya and her smiling, oblivious face, and away from her increasing heartbeat and sweaty face. 

 

Slowly, her paranoia slips away.

 

“That was utterly terrifying,” Elsea says, her voice finally sounding normal to her. Though her hands are still trembling. “How do you deal with that regularly? I couldn’t imagine.”

 

Anya laughs, handing Elsea back her gloves. “Honestly, not too differently from how you just did.”

 

Elsea blinks, realizing that she’s the inferior to Anya for once. Albeit it’s in a conversation about panic attacks, but still. 

 

“Why do you think I had one?” Elsea asks, “And I can’t believe I’m sitting in leaves. Sorry about your jeans. God, this is a mess.”

 

Anya doesn’t say a word as she helps Elsea up. Brushing off her robes, and putting her gloves back on her now ice cold hands, she looks at Anya expectantly.

 

“We don’t have to go to the game if it’s gonna really freak you out that much to see Remus,” Anya tells her, examining the green stain on her knee. “But I’m gonna still run in there to get Sirius to write down the game for me. He’d do that, right? Ha, imagine if he knew it were for Archie. He’d flip. Bloody idiot.”

 

Elsea can’t help but think that yes, Sirius would do that. He’s proper whipped, and he doesn’t even know Anya. 

 

Sometimes she wishes she had Remus that way. It would just make things so much _easier_.

 

“So you think that’s why?” Elsea asks, mostly to herself. “I’m nervous about seeing Remus. Huh.”

 

“For the record,” Anya lays a reassuring hand on Elsea’s shoulder, “I think seeing him would be better than avoiding him. You’ll get yourself all worked up if you wait any longer anyway. We don’t need more stained jeans, right? So if he’s being rude, it’ll be best to show him you don’t care, not one bit. But if he’s not...well… it can’t hurt to spend a chilly afternoon huddled against him in the stands, right?”

 

Elsea stops to think about that. Anya is sort of right. So far, Elsea’s been rather transparent in front of Remus, and, while he might be more observant than the rest of his sex, Elsea can be a better actress than before. She just has to put her mind to it.

 

Except, she’s dressed like a bloody oompa-loompa and she feels zero parts confident. Didn’t Remus say to her the night before that there was no possible way she could be insecure? _Well_ , she thinks, _you got it buddy_ , _I’m about as insecure as I’ll ever be_. All he had to was say _see you in class_.

 

Thanks to him leaving her all high and dry. Did he know how humiliating it was to stalk back into the common room, pissed out of her bloody mind, and find Anya waiting up, expectant, only to comfort Elsea’s drunken, vomiting self for two hours? Elsea, who didn’t consider herself a drunken crier, managed to spill a few tears.

 

But that made her even more upset. And this time, angry.

 

She cried _tears_ over a _BOY?_

 

Elsea’s frown intensifies.

 

_Fuck Remus_ , she thinks. Then the voice in the back of her mind replies, _obviously you’re trying._

 

“You’re right,” she says, nodding to Anya and adjusting herself once more. She straightens the hat on her head, tugs down on her scarf, and puts her foot forward to strut very Elsea-Holmes like into the stadium, when a gust of wind stops her in her place.

 

A pile of soggy, moldy leaves slaps her in the face. She cries out in horror as Anya attempts to pull them off her cheeks. It’s another horrible few seconds before Elsea calms herself down and Anya performs a casual drying charm. 

 

“Let’s just go,” Anya says. Elsea can hear the laughter in her voice as she’s yanked into the arena. “We don’t want anything _else_ to wrong.”

 

-.- 

 

Remus has been in a state since last night. He can’t really speak, he can’t really think, he can’t even focus on the nail-biter of a game unfolding before him. All he can do is feel his mind slipping into pockets of Elsea Holmes as he tries to stop it. It’s pathetic, really, how one silly gesture, a _kiss_ , could turn him into such a useless being.

 

He couldn’t even enjoy the bacon this morning, just stare it and think about how his lips still felt like they were kissed moments ago after he brushed his teeth (approximately five times) and showered before bed last night. James never received a response when he asked the usual, “Can I eat that, Moony?”

 

Of course, that didn’t go unnoticed. Ever since Remus’ friend’s picked up on his mental vacancy, they’ve been coddling him since. Well, their version of coddling.

 

“I can’t believe you skipped out on the bacon,” Peter says, disappointed as he watches the game. “You _love_ bacon.”

 

“You guys only think I do,” Remus lies, “I’m really indifferent to it, actually.”

 

“ _Indifferent to bacon_ ,” Peter repeats incredulously. “You hear this Padfoot? Moony is trying to tell me he’s indifferent to bacon.”

 

“Remus don’t lie,” Sirius says, placing his hands on his shoulders. For some reason, he’s sitting behind everyone, even though James trekked up to the stands early to save them a solid five seats. “You probably get off to bacon. I bet you think about it in the shower.”

 

Last night, Remus definitely wasn’t thinking about bacon in the shower. He feels a wave of guilt, shame, humiliation, and just about everything wash over him at once. So he fakes a sneeze because he has no response.

 

“Merlin bless you,” James says, sarcastically. “Did you put on some rouge this morning, m’lady? You look like a beautiful crabapple.”

 

Peter and Sirius laugh together. Remus, however, forgets to.

 

“A good one,” James says quickly. “A top pick for an apple.”

 

“Thanks,” Remus says, grinning. He can tell his voice gives away his inner feelings, but since his friends have some tact (or rather, are easily distracted) they don’t say anything.

 

But that’s because the stands are starting to fill with pretty girls of all shapes and sizes. A few Gryffindor girls in the year under them place themselves a few feet away. Remus recognizes Camilla McKinnon and Dorcas Meadows, the two girls he and Elsea busted for alcohol the night before, settle down behind Sirius. Camilla catches his eye for a second, blushes, and looks away.

 

He blames them for his awful night, but he can’t seem to put the blame on himself.

 

“Padfoot,” James chirps, turning over his shoulder to look at Sirius, “why don’t you come sit down here? A bit closer? So we can all cuddle?”

 

In his seat, Peter wiggles around and playfully shakes his eyebrows at Sirius. 

 

“As much as I’d love to, I can’t,” Sirius leans back in his seat and nearly smacks the back of his head on Camilla’s knees, “I’m saving these spots for a special someone.”

 

“Spots, plural?” Remus asks. He knows what’s coming.

 

“Who’s the lucky broad?”

 

Sirius smirks. “Just my one true love is all. _Destiny_ is coming to join us.”

 

“I thought Destiny told you to fuck off and never call her again?” Peter asks.

 

“I’m not talking about _Destiny Foul_ , you git, I’m talking about Anya. And who told you that? Destiny still wants me, completely. What do you know? Go watch your Quidditch game.”

 

Remus’ face pales noticeably. “Who is the other? Is it Archie? I didn’t know he came back from vacation.”

 

“ _What_? Archie Blackwater? Are you out of your head?” Sirius asks, and he looks genuinely insulted. “I’d invite a bloody first year Slytherin before that… _wanker_. No. But don’t worry, you’re going to _love_ this.”

 

The way Sirius says “love” makes Remus’ chest tighten in a way he’s unfamiliar with. Perhaps he’s having a heart attack or something. He wouldn’t mind that. Anything to get away from Elsea Holmes would do.

 

“Remus,” James says, his voice barely audible under the sudden ruckus for Hufflepuff’s keeper scoring. “How was patrol last night?”

 

_Damn him_ , Remus thinks immediately. Why can’t he just be like the others and let him loathe himself quietly? He’s been trying to keep the secret events of last night close to his chest. Maybe if he doesn’t speak them out loud, it’ll be like it never happened. Maybe if he doesn’t tell James he drunkenly snogged Elsea Holmes only to leave her alone, mid-kiss, it will disappear in thin air. 

 

“It was fine,” Remus says, focusing his gaze on Point, who is currently floating mid-air and flipping off the Hufflepuff that had just knocked a bludger at him. “Very fine.”

 

“Very fine?” James says, almost mockingly. “Don’t tell me you’ve insulted her further, now. Especially not after I fought Lily about all of that shit.”

 

“I haven’t,” Remus snaps. At least, not intentionally. ‘See you in class’ isn’t necessarily a rude thing to say after a kiss, right? 

 

“No?” James asks, confused. “Are you lying?”

 

“Have I ever lied to you before?”

 

“No.”

 

Remus clears his throat. Someone scored, but they both missed it.

 

“So you fucked her?”

 

“What?” Remus cries, turning to glare at him. “I...what… _no_. Merlin! No… I, we, no! We barely even snogged, like--”

 

“You snogged Elsea Holmes!” James shouts. Luckily, the only one who appears to hear that is Peter, but he could care less about that when a game is going on. “Finally! Was it everything you dreamed about? Did you feel sparks?”

 

“Would you _shut up_?” Remus pleads sternly. “Sparks? What are you, Jane Austen?”

 

“I don’t know who that is,” James says proudly, “But, kid, thank _Merlin_ is all I have to say. I was worried you were going to screw that up big time. Elsea is a ten in every category. And she’s down for whatever, you know? No judgement, killer legs. All of the pot. You’ve won, mate. You’re winning.”

 

Remus stares, unsure how to tell James that he actually did screw up it up, big time. That there is a good chance that Elsea will hate him forever and an even better chance that he will be asking Lily to change his patrol partner. But of course, he doesn’t have to. James can read his expression like an old, favourite childhood book.

 

“Wow,” James says, shaking his head. “Back to square one, aren’t we?”

 

Remus frowns. “I’m just trying to do what’s best. And I fucked it up last night.”

 

“Do you even know what’s best?” James asks, eyes on the game. Remus is surprised the Quidditch-obsessed James even has time to process his mate’s love-life instead of absorbing every moment of the match. “Because, no offense Remus, you’re kind of a major wanker when it comes to relationships.”

 

“Thanks,” Remus deadpans. 

 

“Don’t take it personally, Moony,” James continues, “but maybe you should give it a think. A proper think. She doesn’t have to end up like Willa.”

 

“Sure.”

 

There was no bloody way Elsea could ever “end up like Willa” because Remus is doing his best to prevent that. Essentially, that’s what the singular motive was when he walked away from her like scoundrel last night. But fine, Remus gives it a proper think, whatever “It” is, when behind him Sirius abruptly stands up and knocks his knees into Remus’ and Peter’s back. “Ow!” Peter shouts, lurching forward just as two pairs of long legs squeeze past Remus and settle into the open spot.

 

“Afternoon,” Anya Darzi smiles enthusiastically at the lot of them, “how are you?”

 

“Just peachy,” James remarks, not taking his eyes off the pitch. 

 

Remus, however, isn’t just peachy. He stares for a moment too long at the giant black blob that happens to be Elsea Holmes.

 

She’s wearing far too many layers, no matter how cold she thought it was. Her robes are pulled over a puffy black jacket and she wears a scarf tightly around her neck. She looks massive. At least, massive in comparison to Anya, who sits like a small little porcelain doll between Elsea and Sirius.

 

“Hi Remus,” Elsea says, giving him a look that is entirely unreadable. 

 

Remus panics and turns back to the pitch. James elbows him hard in the ribs.

 

“Is that a notepad?” Sirius asks. Peter turns around, peering over Remus’ shoulder. 

 

“Yes,” Anya says, not even slightly embarrassed. “I’m supposed to write down a full report of the game today.”

 

“Why?” Peter asks.

 

“Sounds brilliant,” Sirius blurts out dreamily. 

 

“She’s doing it for Archie,” Elsea explains. She sounds normal enough, but the sound of her voice sends a chill down Remus’ spine. “He’s really upset about missing the game.”

 

“Oh.” Peter turns around, uninterested.

 

“So you’re writing him notes?” James asks. He’s staring at Anya, but Remus can feel Elsea staring at him. “Isn’t that, I don’t know, a bit excessive?”

 

“Yeah, I know, but, uh.” Anya is speaking like she’s blushing, and Remus really, really, wants to look—but he can’t risk it. “He’s kind of having a hard time right now? It’s the least I could do.”

 

James’ raises an eyebrow, obviously unconvinced. 

 

“Oh don’t look at her like that, James,” Sirius protests, surprisingly. “She’s just being a good person. I’d write a Quidditch game for all of you. Even Remus, and he barely gives a shit.”

 

“How kind,” Remus says, facing the game without a clue as to who is winning.

 

“Thank you. Now, Anya, if you need anything – I’m your man. Really, like, I’ll even write it all out for you. Get all the terms you don’t know, and all.”

 

There is a brief pause.

 

“I’m good, but thanks,” Anya mutters, distantly.

 

Remus accidentally barks out a laugh at the same time as Elsea, but stops himself quickly. It’s almost as if he can feel her stiffen behind him. Like they’re on this other worldly wave-length that no one else can feel. 

 

He finds himself thinking about the way her lips felt against his again, and wonders if maybe she still smells like booze and if she’s hungover, like he is. But those thoughts just burn in him, make him want to turn around and see for himself, so he pushes them down and focuses on mentally strangling Markus Point in the sky.

 

“Remus,” Elsea says. It terrifies him so much to hear her voice that he isn’t sure if it’s real or not. “ _Remus_.”

 

“Yes?” Remus answers. His voice is sharp, too sharp. He sounds mean, but he can’t help it.

 

Elsea stares at him, her eyes wide like a deer in headlights. 

 

“Um,” she starts, “it’s bacon day.”

 

Remus tries his best not to laugh when he nods his head and says, “Bacon day ended at breakfast.” Then turns around. He’s done it, he’s defeated Elsea Holmes.

 

However, James laughs. He laughs into his sleeve, facing away from everyone until he tears up. 

 

“Get it fucking together,” Remus hisses, now elbowing James’ ribs. “You’re so obvious.”

 

“I’m obvious?” James whispers, wiping his eyes. “You’re obvious. ‘Bacon day ended at breakfast,’ that’s so cold, man.”

 

Remus starts to lay into him, stamping hard on his foot until James pushes back. They start wrestling around a bit, pushing into Peter who just pushes them back. The physical contact thing with James usually is more of a nuisance to Remus than anything, but today, using him as a punching bag has to be the greatest distraction of all time. Remus cracks something in James’ arm.

 

“Okay, _ow_.”

 

“That’s what you get.”

 

James’ pulls Remus head into a headlock and begins to give him a classic noogie.

 

“Fuck off.”

 

“That’s what _you_ get.”

 

-.-

 

Elsea can’t believe she came all the way to a Quidditch game to be blown off by Remus Lupin and to watch him petty fight with James Potter. Ridiculous. Absolutely not worth the panic attack.

 

Next to her, Anya and Sirius are chatting like actual civilized human-beings, which is _distressing_. So she balances her head on her hand and glares out at the game. She hates Quidditch, especially when Archie isn’t playing, that being said: this is absolute torture. 

 

Anya laughs at something Sirius said, and Elsea darts her head to aim her laser-like glare at her new target. 

 

Anya stops laughing. “What?” she mumbles, leaning her head closer to Elsea so only she can hear.

 

“Stop,” is all Elsea can say before Sirius tugs Anya back with a _stupid, stupid question_ and they lurch into further conversation. She can’t believe they’re getting along, for once. Her and Remus are _supposed_ to be better than them and she can’t even think of two words to say to him. 

 

Elsea averts her eyes to Remus’ back, where his head has disappeared under James’ arm in some kind of painful headlock. He’s waving his arms frantically, cursing and laughing. It’s not fair that she’s not a part of that. A part of the fun, a part of Remus. She’s just a big, fat, mass of winter wear, sitting alone and sniffling.

 

“What the hell is this?” A new voice, an annoying voice, calls from somewhere down the stands. “What are you doing? James, you’re going to _decapitate_ him.”

 

Lily Evans. Just in time to put the icing on the cake of this awful, awful day. Elsea blinks up into the blinding sun protruding from the thick clouds, just to stare up at the redhead. Lily is wearing an adorable light blue peacoat and looks positively warm in her winter gear. Elsea, for the second time that day, feels inferior to someone she normally doesn’t.

 

“Trying to teach him a lesson, Lily dearest,” James remarks, letting Remus go and smiling up at his girlfriend. Elsea has the sudden urge to scream _I SNOGGED YOUR BOYFRIEND!_ at Lily, but thinks better of it. Besides, they’d snogged years ago. Hardly counted.

 

Though, she reckons Lily wouldn’t fancy it much.

 

“Looked homoerotic, I liked it,” came the long, heavily Scottish drawl of a curvy, brunette girl behind Lily. Elsea raises her eyebrows and watches as, who she’s come to suspect to be Mary MacDonald, places a delicate hand on Remus’ shoulder. Then she literally settles herself on his lap. Like it’s a _thing_. “Anyone want a smoke?”

 

Sirius goes to accept one but Anya gives him a judgmental stare. Elsea watches as Remus stares at the pack in Mary’s hand, then declines. 

 

“I’ll take one,” Elsea says coolly, reaching forward and snatching a cheap cigarette before Mary has a chance to answer. Their eyes meet for a brief moment, and she can see Remus studying them with a horrified look on his face. 

 

His hands are resting awkwardly on his sides, not on Mary. Elsea thinks that might be a good sign, but still feels the red hot rage surge through her. If anyone is going to be sitting on Remus’ lap in public, it’s going to be her.

 

“I’m sorry, I haven't caught your name,” Elsea continues, letting Sirius light her cigarette with a spare lighter. She leans back in her seat and takes a long drag. She knows that despite the fact that her body looks ridiculous, her face looks intimidating. Bitch Face. Archie, of course, would be proud.

 

Elsea _really_ misses him today. If Archie were here, he’d let her climb him like a tree.

 

“I didn’t say it,” Mary replies, glancing at her warily. “I’m Mary. Mary MacDonald.”

 

Lily has sat down on the other side of James, who’s switched spots with Peter. Peter, who is completely engrossed in the game, barely notices the tension behind him. Elsea wishes she were on his level right about now.

 

“Pleasure,” Elsea coos, just as Anya coyly wraps a hand around her wrist as if to say _cool it, tiger_. “How do you know each other?”

 

She’s directed the question at Sirius, though everyone, including Mary, knows she means this to Mary and Remus.

 

Sirius, obedient as ever, answers, “Gryffindors.”

 

“Pity,” Elsea replies. “So many brave souls in one place can get a bit stuffy, can’t it?”

 

She’s more than aware of Remus’ cold gaze by now, but she doesn’t care. She’s _allowed_ to make _conversation_ , even if that means insulting everyone there save for Ravenclaw Anya.

 

“Yeah, it’s a bit much at times,” Mary says agreeably, taking a drag. “I think I’m meant to be a Hufflepuff, or a Slytherin, actually. I’m not very brave.”

 

Remus seems to suddenly come out of himself at that moment, snaking a hand onto Mary’s knee. “You’re plenty brave, love.”

 

_Prick_. Elsea thinks, but she may as well have said it out loud, with her facial expression. It’s like Remus is intentionally ruining her day. 

 

“You think?” Mary asks, managing to lean against him even more. Elsea is sure Mary is _plenty_ self-assured. It was brave enough to trot over and plant herself on _Remus’_ lap, of all people. And pretty brave to pick a fight with Elsea. Even Elsea knows of her reputation. People didn’t willingly talk back to her unless they had self-destructive nerve or a lack of brain cells. “But I look better in green, so it doesn’t matter.”

 

Elsea smiles with the corner of her mouth, her eyes fixed on Mary. She’s in full on attack-dog mode, now. Anya’s hand tightens around her wrist, but she yanks it away. 

 

“I reckon I got lucky with Ravenclaw,” Elsea says, purposely making her tone unreadable. “Such fantastic colors for any season.”

 

Mary takes another drag. “True.”

 

Elsea holds the cigarette between her gloved fingers. It’s a really shitty cigarette. Next to her, Sirius is staring at hers with a look of utter disdain. Even her cigarettes are trashy, Elsea thinks, not even _Sirius_ wants them.

 

“So I have a wager,” Peter says, and it might be the first thing Elsea’s heard him say all day, “with Maddox.”

 

Only fools make wagers with Maddox.

 

“Tell us,” Sirius insists. “Quickly, I don’t want to miss a moment. For Archie.”

 

Elsea accidentally looks at Remus out of habit to find him staring back. It seems like he forgot for a moment too.

 

“If Hufflepuff wins, I get a whole gram. Free,” Peter explains.

 

Elsea is sure she didn’t authorize that, but she’s in no position to talk. 

 

“Free?” James asks and Lily glares at him. “I mean. That sucks. Weed is terrible.”

 

“What happens if you lose?” Elsea asks. She better be getting a gram back, for that stupid handout. She swears by Maddox most of the time, but not always.

 

“No weed. _Ever_ again.”

 

Elsea stands up, suddenly. She is going to kill Maddox. That deal makes her lose money with any blood outcome. She is going to kill _everyone_. She’s going to kill Anya, for having fun. Sirius, for being an idiot. Peter, for being involved in a stupid wager. James, for dating Lily. Lily, for existing. Mary MacDonald, for sitting in Remus’ lap and resting her hands all over his arms and legs when she is _not_ allowed.

 

“Why are you standing?” Sirius asks.

 

“I-” She feels everyone staring at her. She feels Remus especially, patronizing as ever, his eyes judging and stripping her down to nothing. He’s the only she doesn’t want to kill, just because hoping for a second chance, just one, no matter how pathetic it sounds in her head. But now, with his blank expression, and that stupid girl tangled all around him, she can’t even imagine it happening. “I have to water my plants.”

 

Elsea storms off, ripping her scarf off her neck as she goes. It was suffocating her anyway. 

 

“Hey!” someone shouts as she blocks their view. She doesn’t apologize, only glares as the first year cowers in terror. It’s nice to have some control in her life, for once.

 

A part of her wants to turn around, just see if Remus is still staring at her. Maybe running after her, ready to apologize or give her the snog of her life like he _should_. But he won’t, because this is reality. And Elsea really can’t turn around, if does, she might puke.

 

When she finally reaches the castle, she’s shivering, but still ripping articles of clothing off of her as fast as she can manage. It’s almost a compulsion. Elsea’s lost her robes, hat, scarf, and gloves when a hand clutches her shoulder.

 

She whips around, glaring furiously and ready to stomp Remus.

 

Too bad, it’s not Remus. She had been really looking forward to telling him off. 

 

Lily Evans stares at her, fearful, tentative.

 

“Oh,” Elsea says, settling back a bit. “It’s you.”

 

Lily blinks. “Right, um. Yes, Hi. You know you were a pain in the arse to follow? You walk so bloody fast. I think I called your name ten different times, maximum.”

 

“Sorry,” Elsea coughs, wondering why she’s apologizing to Lily Evans of all people, “preoccupied.”

 

“I can tell,” Lily suddenly looks so awkward, scratching the back of her cherry hair and looking everywhere but Elsea’s face, “look, so…”

 

Elsea stares at her, waiting. Is this what Remus had mentioned? Is Lily about to say the ‘s’ word?

 

“I’m sorry if I upset you back in the stadium. I didn’t mean to… intrude on your fun, or whatever. James invited me too...”

 

Elsea stares, shocked. Lily _always_ annoys Elsea, but at that time specifically, she was the least of her troubles. Did Lily not think she had her own problems? That Elsea just sat around and hated her all day? Ridiculous. Elsea decides that she hadn’t seen true narcissism until today. “Go on, Lily.”

 

“I’m also sorry, for being so presumptuous about you. I really had no right to say the things I did, or act like I’m superior and what not. And I’m sorry for singling you out at SAPS, I just genuinely thought it was the right thing to do and… well. I’m sorry.”

 

Lily puts forward a hand, looking at Elsea hopefully.

 

“We don’t have to be friends or anything, just accept each other's presence. I’m not like Remus, I know that you probably have hated me all as much as I _disliked_ you. So, can we agree to be civil?”

 

“Civil.” Elsea accepts immediately. Then she does one thing she never thought she’d do: Elsea places her palm in Lily’s and _smiles_. If she’s going to win over Remus Lupin, she’s going to need as many weapons in her arsenal as she can get. 

 

Although, Elsea can’t help but think that this whole situation would be a lot funnier if she could tell Remus about it later.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We miss your thoughts!!!! Let us know what you think!!! :~)


	12. Build Me Up Buttercup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Heeeey man,” Jason, who is sitting next to Remus, says. “I care about other kinds of greenery.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the two weeks between posts! No excuse. We should be back on schedule now!
> 
> Just FYI: do NOT repost this story. Do not take someone else's writing and post it on another site claiming it's yours. That's just like 50 shades of uncool. We recently had someone do this to us on harrypotterfanfiction.com, and it really fucking pissed us off. It's taken down now, but honestly, what good comes out of stealing someone else's work? 
> 
> Anyway, with that note.... please read on and enjoy :)

Elsea Holmes manages to wallow in self-pity for a short length of sixteen hours before Archie’s homecoming returns her to her normal, self-assured, Bitch Face state.

 

After the quidditch game fiasco, she had decided to spend the rest of her weekend on autopilot. She let Anya chat about Archie, S.A.P.S., and her Muggle Studies lessons, even though Elsea isn’t in Muggle Studies. She let Maddox give Peter Pettigrew the entire gram free; only to find out that Maddox had _somehow_ fixed the match in his favour. Then, when he asked if Elsea wanted to know how, she said yes, even though she didn’t listen. That type of influence would usually impress her, but honestly, she’s been feeling a bit numb lately.

 

All of that ended abruptly Monday morning at breakfast, when the Great Hall doors burst open to reveal the revitalized and re-handsome-ized figure of Archibald Blackwater III.

 

Even Anya, who had been chatting incessantly about the Halloween party coming up the following Saturday evening (the only parties she approved of were ones in which she could dress up sexy and impress upon all her so-called male-suitors), stopped mid-sentence when she noticed his smirking face a few feet away.

 

“Fucking _finally_ ,” Anya curses. Elsea can’t help but cringe, it always sounds wrong to hear swear words in her bubbly little voice. Anya only seems to reserve the sinful words for Archie, pot-smokers, and oddly enough, John Travolta. “Archie!”

 

She jumps from her seat, abandoning the barely touched stack of blueberry pancakes to greet their long lost friend. Elsea follows behind her slowly, watching as Anya quite literally jumps on top of him and hangs from looped arms around his neck.

 

He smiles fully at Anya, looking as healthy and happy as ever as he swings her around. Then, over her shoulder, he gives Elsea a knowing, mischievous grin.

 

Elsea waves back shortly, stepping behind Anya to wait for her hug. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like she’s quite ready to let go any time soon.

 

“You’re so tan,” Anya says, gazing at Archie as if he is the personification of heaven. “And your hair, did you get it cut?”

 

“Just a trim.” He doesn’t blush, but he runs his free hand through his hair in a way that is absolutely nauseating to Elsea. He knows he looks good, the wanker. She would usually scowl at him for being so disgusting, but she can’t help but relish in how nice it feels to, well, _feel_.

 

“Why are you tan?” Elsea asks. “I thought you were going to London.”

 

“Believe me, I did too, just--” Archie admits, pausing. “Anya, appreciate the cuddling but you’re _killing_ my neck.”

 

She lets go immediately, still looking positively elated. “Sorry.”

 

“Anyway,” he continues, the way he speaks makes Elsea miss him even though he’s right in front of her. “Turns out that Aunt Maggie was… uh, found, I guess, in Panama. Hiding in some construction project by the canal. Apparently, she had really made herself at home. About half of the people at the funeral were muggles. And they _adored_ her.”

 

“Wow,” Elsea says, and she means it. She’s never left the U.K. “So how long were you there?”

 

“About a week. And since my mum is, well, my _mum_ , we ended up at this crazy resort. All muggles, of course. We got massages and everything. I got a facial - it was ridiculous. Muggles are so excessive,” Archie says, rolling his shoulders back and frowning as if he had acquired some sort of injury from the experience. “Turns out mum doesn’t mind the company of muggles when those muggles have eight figure bank accounts. Wanna know the best part, though? _Tons_ of women. And alcohol. You could say I… _faired well_.”

 

Anya looks at her feet with wide eyes, nostrils flared, as if she has failed personally by allowing these events to occur. Which it really isn’t true, Archie sleeping with people like a sociopathic sex-fiend is an inevitability that no one can eliminate. Elsea, however, shakes her head and laughs. It feels good in her stomach to have something as it should be.

 

“I’m glad you enjoyed the mourning period,” she says, dryly. “Sounds like you had a rave of a time.”

 

“Shut up,” Archie groans, and then steps forward as if on an impulse and wraps Elsea in a long, suffocating hug. “Such a bitch.”

 

“Ugh, ew,” Elsea cries, pretending to shove him away. She then becomes aware that the entire Great Hall is staring at them through sleepy eyes. So she does what Elsea Holmes does, and shoves him back with a nasty smirk. “Get your hands off of me, dirtbag.”

 

Archie just smiles. “Missed you too, Bitch Face.”

 

“I hate that nickname,” Anya wrinkles her nose, “it’s so crude.”

 

“Good thing it’s not your nickname then,” Archie retorts, keeping his eyes fixed on Elsea. She feels an inexplicable spread of warmth at his return. His departure showed her how much she relies on him. She needs Archie for a variety of reasons, ranging from High Roller duties to ranting about Remus Lupin. She can’t even believe it, but she wants to bloody talk about boys with Archie.

 

Anya frowns. She looks so disappointed that Elsea thinks she might explode. Or implode. Or just float off away into nonexistence. That thought reminds her of the ghost party, and quickly Elsea’s face heats and she can’t help but shoot a glance in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

 

He’s not there.

 

When she turns back, she notices Archie and Anya sharing a knowing look. Anya’s mouth is open to explain, but Elsea shoots her a cool glance, which shuts her right up.

 

“I’m skiving off Care of Magical Creatures,” Archie announces, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his brand new robes. “Flitwick gave me a morning pass to settle in. You want to join?”

 

Elsea opens her mouth to respond with a _God yes_ , but this time Anya cuts her off. “We can’t. Elsea skipped potions last Thursday. Slughorn wants her head on a stick.”

 

“I guess I’m going,” she says, matching his hands-in-pockets slouched look. She really doesn’t want to see Remus, not after the disaster of Saturday’s Quidditch match. What if she ends up shoving him against the wall and ripping out his jugular with her teeth? Anya is quite frail, Sirius Black is an antagonizer, James would be to worried about keeping up appearances - who would stop her? Someone could _die_. “We’ll catch up at lunch?”

 

Archie nods, looking a bit pained to be separate again much longer. “I’m going to go,” he makes a gesture like he’s about to smoke a spliff, “ _you know_.”

 

Anya frowns in disapproval. “Come on, really?”

 

He smirks, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. The look on her face is of complete and utter shock. “Really!”

 

Elsea desperately wants to smoke. Although she did yesterday with Maddox, after he took a chunk off of what he was “giving” to Peter, she wasn’t all there. Now, with Archie back, it wouldn’t be bad to chatter in a haze of smoke. There would be laughter, good hits, strangely missed cuddling, and much needed venting.

 

Archie catches her eye over Anya’s shoulder and winks.

 

He’s got a plan.

 

“Wait, I forgot about the _gifts_.”

 

Archie lets go of Anya, reaching into the inner pocket of his robes. Anya stares eagerly, first at Elsea, then back at Archie. She loves a good present.

 

“Ah, here it is.” Archie pulls a medium sized box from his pocket, holding it carefully with both hands. He’s smiling incredibly wide, and his teeth look whiter than ever with his new tan. “ _Anya_.”

 

She looks like she might faint, clutching the box in her hands. Elsea can’t help but roll her eyes. Archie is terrible at gifts. He has almost all the money in the world, and he still doesn’t know how to buy a decent present. Elsea knows this because she, very strongly, prides herself on her amazing gift giving talents. Last Christmas? She got Anya an infinity bag that she still uses today. Archie, he received a neon green collapsible meter bong. Even Elsea’s dealers got a little something special: four grams, _free_ , each.

 

Archie, however, couldn’t seem to get his head on straight once he entered a department store. Elsea remembers the pink cable knit sweater he bought her last year. It was two sizes too big and caused a brilliant neck rash, aside from being plain hideous.

 

But he tried, at least.

 

Anya opens the box.

 

“Oh…” she starts, genuinely confused. “What is it?”

 

“It’s a snow globe,” Archie says proudly. “Or a _sand_ globe, as the store clerk said. Funny right? You just shake it, you see...”

 

He pulls the snow globe from the box, displaying it before their eyes. Inside is a small, plastic crab, sitting on an open treasure chest with it’s claws open. To it’s left is a tiny palm tree with gold coconuts hanging beneath the rubber leaves. Written in the sand is the phrase _Party in Panama!_ in tiny seashells.

 

When Archie shakes it, little particles of glitter and fake sand cloud the globe. When it settles, the sand covers ‘pa’ in panama, changing the phrase to: _Party in nama!_

 

“I love it,” Anya says, sounding like she might cry. “It’s beautiful. I can’t thank you enough.”

 

Elsea, who would have tossed the damn snow globe out the window had he tried to give it to her, forces a smile. It is a strained sort of smile, the kind where her face holds all its tenseness and it doesn’t even make an effort to reach her eyes.

 

“Ah, you’re welcome.” Archie attempts a sheepishly look by scratching the back of his head. Elsea thinks he must have seen someone else react that way to a flattering comment and had decided it was better than responding with toxic self-assuredness and a, “I know, I’m the best,” sort of remark.

 

“Elsea,” Archie says, almost aggressively shifting the attention towards her. “Your gift is illegal.”

 

Elsea blinks. “Oh?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How _exciting_.”

 

“Very.” Archie chuckles and his shoulders shake in delight. “That’s why it’s in my room. So you’re gonna have to come back with me to see it.”

 

Brilliant. Elsea can’t help but underestimate Archie, knowing that he’s an idiot about 70% of the time, but when he comes through, it’s something special. “Let go now, then,” Elsea insists.

 

Anya looks slightly distressed. “Wait. Potions starts in-”

 

“-I’ll meet you there,” Elsea promises, grabbing Anya’s hand and squeezing it quickly. She gives her a look she’s been practicing on Stan and various others for years. It usually results in someone trusting her fully and completely. “See you?”

 

“Fine,” Anya says, reluctant. “I hate when you leave me with Sirius.”

 

“Just ignore him.”

 

“It’s hard when he keeps staring at me from across the room like he wants to _devour_ me.”

 

“Oh _boo hoo_.”

 

“Sirius Black?” Archie asks, confused. “Why? What’s he gonna do to you?”

 

Elsea sees Anya take notice of the opportunity just as she discovers it herself.

 

“Flirt with me,” Anya explains, shrugging nonchalantly. “Incessantly.”

 

Archie nods his head, notes it with a cluck of his tongue. “Huh.”

 

“We should get going,” Elsea urges. She really doesn’t have time for dysfunctional romance if she wants to take care of business, receive her illegal present, and spend optimal time with Archie in which she can _finally_ be honest with herself. Things have to get moving. “Like now.”

 

“Okay boss.” Archie salutes, which gives her a strange sense of pride.

 

“Just, don’t be late?” Anya presses, giving her a sharp look. “Please? Otherwise I’ll have to work with Sirius and Point. Doesn’t that sound like a disastrous combination?”

 

Elsea nods. “Just damn awful.”

 

She grabs Archie’s arm and with that, rushes out of the Great Hall and towards the Ravenclaw Tower. With Archie prattling on about some Caribbean girl he “shagged” between the wake and the funeral, Elsea concentrates on getting in and out. By the time they make it to his dorm, she has three items she wants to tell him before lessons.

 

“Home sweet home,” Archie cries, upon opening the door. Elsea ushers him inside as he turns around to dig in his trunk. “I’ve missed you, Bitch Face, as much as I hate to admit it. There wasn’t anyone to tell me I was being a knob, which, actually, was kind of nice. But then it got me into a bit of trouble when--”

 

“--yeah, yeah, we’ll talk about that later. Three things.”

 

Archie pauses, looks at her, then nods. “Okay. Go on then.”

 

“One. Lude pills go on the market Friday, a day before the big Gryffindor Halloween party.”

 

“Wicked. We’re gonna turn a massive profit.”

 

Elsea eyes him at the “we” part of his statement. She continues, “Two. Lily Evans apologized to my face and Sirius Black wants to shag Anya’s brains out.”

 

Archie face falls into a stern line. “That itself is two items. But, I hate that git.”

 

“Lily or Sirius?”

 

He thinks about it for a while. “Both.”

 

“Nice. Okay, three. I snogged Remus Lupin and then he left me, mid-snog, in the Ravenclaw Tower corridor. Then you know what he said?”

 

Archie smiles, eyes wide with shock. “You snogged Remus Lupin? Bloody finally.”

 

“Yes, but guess what he _said_.”

 

“Uh… Come back to my room with me?”

 

“Nope, ‘see you in class.’ Like we just hugged or something.”

 

Elsea closes her mouth, staring at Archie for some sort of response. He nods his head slowly; eyes squinted with his brows furrowed. “That’s…”

 

“Right?” Elsea interrupts. “So fucking weird. Who snogs a girl, better yet, who snogs _me_ and just hurries away and then… ignores me the next day?”

 

“Yeah but...” Archie starts, sitting on the bed with a huge cardboard box in his hand. “Was it a good snog? Like a real, sweaty, hands-all-over snog? Or just a kiss?”

 

Elsea thinks back to when it happened. It started out as a kiss, for sure. Elsea wasn’t trying to plunge her tongue down his throat like a fourteen year old, she was just trying to express her emotions in a way that couldn’t be later pushed under the rug. Remus was the one who backed her into the wall, though. He was the one who placed his hand on the small of her back.

 

She can almost feel it now, his hands everywhere, the sting of his lips.

 

“It was… _both_.”

 

She doesn’t want to read into things, she doesn’t want to be the lovesick teenager pining after a boy who doesn’t like her back. She’s almost certain Remus does like her back. They have a great time together, he flirts (when he’s not impossibly cold and distant), and well… they just have chemistry.

 

Archie stares at her blankly, scratching the back of his neck. “I dunno, Elsea,” he tells her, pushing the box in her lap. “I’m bad at this stuff. Isn’t this what Anya is for?”

 

“Yeah, but you’re better,” Elsea admits, looking at nothing but the Farrah Fawcett poster Archie has plastered over his wardrobe. “I think. I don’t know. You’re a _boy_. I thought maybe you would be able to figure it out.”

 

Archie ‘ahhs’, reclining on the bed. “Yeah, no. Remus sounds like an absolute nutter to me. If I were him, I would’ve probably tried to shag you on the first patrol shift. I’d try and avoid him. He seems like he’d probably have no problem hurting you, based on what you’ve told me about him already.”

 

Elsea, despite herself, feels a bubble of frustration pop in her chest. How could Archie say that? Remus isn’t a nutter. He’s just different, distant, maybe _confused_. She’s sure he never meant to hurt her in anyway, if he wanted to hurt her he could’ve pushed her away that time he found her crying in the corridors. Remus isn’t like that. He’d _never_.

 

“He could also have lopsided testicles,” Archie adds, looking at the ceiling. “It’s a thing.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Maddox has them. He was so embarrassed that he wouldn’t let anyone give him a BJ for years, incase they saw it. Remus could be like that.”

 

“I’m gonna open this now,” Elsea says, her voice stiff and brittle. She doesn’t feel all that much better about the Remus situation, either. “I hope it’s a bong.”

 

Archie sighs, shaking his head. “Way to ruin the surprise.”

 

 

-.-

 

“Just admit it!” is the first thing Remus hears upon walking into potions, alone, after realizing he left his books in the dormitories. He’d been having a bad couple of days. Or day, considering the quidditch game incident only happened Saturday and now it’s Monday. Still, it feels like it’s been an eternity. Each hour is excruciatingly long, boring, and somehow linked to Elsea Holmes. He’s done nothing, and yet he’s still exhausted.

 

Meanwhile, Sirius is shouting at Cory Levy, the shortest kid in the class, over a boiling cauldron of silvery liquid.

 

“Just _tell_ the truth. We all know it’s you!” Sirius cries. Cory Levy looks down at his shoes, eyebrows raised.

 

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s not before you quit pestering me?” Cory asks his trainers. “I’ve told you _twice_ this week.”

 

James stares at the scene unabashed, chewing on his fingernails with a sleepy look in his eyes. Remus sits on his left, elbowing him in the ribs.

 

“What’s happening?” he asks.

 

James shrugs. “Sirius thinks that Cory Levy is the High Roller.”

 

Remus frowns. Cory Levy carries a pouch full of the booger flavoured Bertie Botts Every Flavoured Beans in his pocket everywhere he goes. He says he likes the salty taste.

 

“Really?” Remus says. “Is he sure?”

 

“ _Yes,_ I’m sure.” Sirius swings his entire body around, glaring at Remus. “He’s close with Maddox and Xavier - both known dealers and the only solid link that isn’t an absolute blow off. Plus, he constantly reeks-”

 

“-I told you, it’s _cologne_ ,” Cory argues, his face bright red.

 

“Who the hell has cologne that smells like pot?” Sirius asks, laughing manically. “Exactly. You are the High Roller, Cory.”

 

Cory sighs deeply, covering his face with both of his hands. “No. I’m. Not.”

 

“ _Yes_. You are.”

 

Just as the back and forth starts to pick up again, Peter strolls in. Remus notices that half the class is missing and that Slughorn, talking to Lily in the front of class, has yet to notice.

 

“What?” Peter begins to ask, not even bothering to finish the statement.

 

“Thinks Cory is the High Roller, or something,” Remus mumbles. He’s impossibly tired. He wonders if he fell asleep in class he could avoid seeing Elsea this lesson. That is, if she didn’t invade his dreams. “Really dumb.”

 

“I _heard_ that,” Sirius cuts in.

 

“But why?” Peter asks.

 

James looks at Remus, his eyes begging for help.

 

Sirius explains his hypothesis again. This time, Cory doesn’t bother interrupting. He just looks at the ceiling, shaking his head.

 

“But Sirius,” Peter says, once he finishes. “What about Hadley? Cory doesn’t talk to Hadley. Hell, Hadley doesn’t talk to any Hufflepuffs at all. Hadley doesn’t even talk to _Ravenclaws_. Except Blackwater. Maddox. Maybe Webb if he pays her. I’ve seen her talk to Elsea, like, one time.”

 

Remus puts his head down on the table at the sound of the name ‘Elsea.’

 

Sirius snorts. “Yeah, okay, _sure_.”

 

The conversation lulls as Slughorn attempts to regain the class’ attention. Moments later, Elsea Holmes comes stumbling in the door. Remus can’t help but look at her; bright eyed and blonde and so damn pretty. His stomach lurches in a sickening way and he looks down at his notes before she even sits down.

 

“He’s right, you know,” Sirius says to Remus, leaning over his worktable.

 

“Who’s right?”

 

“Peter,” Sirius explains, staring at Remus, who is watching the back of Elsea’s head like a moving target. “Hey, pay attention to _me_. This is important.”

 

“Sorry,” Remus lies.

 

“Fucking hell, man. What am I gonna do? I’m at a dead end. There is no way Cory Levy is the High Roller. What was I thinking?”

 

Remus sighs. “I don’t know, man.”

 

“Listen. I’ve gotten as far as knowing all the dealers are Maddox, Hadley, Xavier and Webb. The most associated with them are Blackwater and company, Jason, Fernando…”

 

Remus goes deaf at the name ‘Fernando.’

 

Slughorn is droning on about healing potions for animal bites. In order to heal yourself from a wound, you need a hair from the animal, dead sea salt, newt solution and flitterboom. Remus writes it all down with his eyes glued to the upper left hand corner of the blackboard. He needs focus, he needs control.

 

“Moony,” Sirius whispers. “Moony, do you think it could be Jason?”

 

Remus feels his eyes shifting down, he can see Elsea in his peripheral vision and he’s so tempted just to _look_. She could be staring at him at any moment, and he’d have no idea. If happened to avert his eyes about 45 degrees, he’d be able to see for himself. But that would mean eye contact, which wouldn’t be okay. He presses his quill so hard into the paper that he tears it.

 

“Moony?”

 

“It’s not _fucking_ Jason,” Remus snaps as James’ shoulders shake with laughter. Slughorn briefly looks over at them, but after clearly deciding it wasn’t worth the energy, pretended not to hear their conversation. “He gave his entire record collection to a shitload of ghosts. He doesn’t care about money.”

 

“ _Heeeey_ man,” Jason, who is sitting next to Remus, says. “I care about other kinds of greenery.”

 

“Which is exactly why you _could_ be the High Roller,” Sirius insinuates, grinning proudly.

 

Peter groans, rolling his eyes with such intense frustration that Remus can’t help but admire it.

 

“Sirius, for fuck’s sake, he could never pull that off intellectually. I thought we decided that whoever it was had to be a Ravenclaw. What are you doing?”

 

Sirius closes his eyes, leaning back in his seat. James pats Peter on the back proudly.

 

“I just need to find out before the term ends,” Sirius admits. “For Anya, lads. I promised her.”

 

“Well that was a stupid promise to make,” Remus mutters under his breath. Sirius glares at him.

 

“You just need to regroup, man,” Peter says, his voice soft as if he’s talking to a child. “We have our facts, now we need to organize them and cancel out our suspects. You’re way off the handle.”

 

“He’s right,” James says, smiling at Peter with pride. “Cussing out every possible suspect isn’t going to help you here.”

 

James pulls out a sheet of blank parchment, laying it out in the center of the table. “Okay,” he breathes, dipping his quill in the nearest inkwell. Everyone, including Remus and Jason, lean in with interest. “What do we know?”

 

-.-

 

“It’s good to be back, isn’t it?” Elsea asks Archie, smirk on her face. “Nothing like coming back to an exam.”

 

Archie shrugs it off. “Oh, who bloody cares? We’ve got such great things ahead of us today.”

 

Behind them in the corridor, Elsea can hear Sirius exiting the classroom, barking something at the top of his lungs. She can’t discern what he’s saying, but she can tell it’s horribly annoying. And definitely about the High Roller. He’d been blabbing on and on about the High Roller’s identity all through potions. Elsea had to practically stab herself in the thigh with her wand to keep from another panic attack.

 

“Keep your voice down,” Elsea hisses, knocking shoulders against Archie. Not in the way she’d knock shoulders against Remus. This is vicious, violent, and definitely aimed to bruise. “People could hear you.”

 

“People could think we’re going to shag in the broom closets, for all they know.” Archie stuffs his hands into the pockets of his robes and flashes a brilliant, pearly white smile. He just reeks of privilege, of money and vacations in Ibiza. Elsea resents him sometimes, knowing that she’s got to actually make a profit off her products and can’t just smile and flash her mood wallet to get what she wants.

 

If Archie was suspected of being the High Roller, he could pay his way out of it. Elsea? She’d have to go on the run. Move to Ohio. She’s heard it’s pretty boring there.

 

“Just hurry up, will you? We’ve got to be in _the place_ in ten minutes.”

 

The _place_ is the new hideout for business. Archie stumbled upon it a few weeks prior after searching for a place to snog June Lee. Again, when he wanted to stash twenty grams of enchanted wizard weed when he’d heard a group of professors approaching. They’d found it one other time two weeks ago; this time with a circular table and a head chair that made Elsea feel like a mob boss.

 

She loves it.

 

They have to cross the entire castle to get there, and by the time they do manage to find the spot, the door won’t open.

 

“How do we get it to show up?” she asks, standing in front of the door. “How do you it?”

 

“Just happens,” Archie says, nudging her aside. Just as he stands in her spot, the doors begin to forge their way from the wall, large and grandiose.

 

“How’d you do that?” she asks, pushing them open with a hefty shove.

 

Archie winks. “My Mum says I have a way with doors.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

They stroll inside, the mob table front and center with a bright, intimidating fluorescent light centered over it. Elsea takes a slow victory lap around it before sitting at the thrown-like cushy chair at the head.

 

“Ah,” Elsea sighs, reclining in the seat. “Yes. This is _the_ place.”

 

“Thought it would be,” Archie says, wandering around. He looks just as impressed with the room as Elsea does, if not mildly proud. It is entirely his brainchild, so Elsea has to hand it to him: he thought up the perfect place for her to intimidate the hell out of her insubordinate dealers. And Maddox.

 

Like clockwork, the door opens and the dealers all file in. Hadley looks around, her nose turned up in the air, before settling into the seat directly across from Elsea. Xavier and Maddox poke around the room before finding their seats, but Webb narrows his eyes and hovers in the back near the door.

 

“Take a seat, Webb,” Elsea says coolly, annoyed that he’s already being a pain in her arse. “Stay awhile.”

 

“I’m fine back here,” Webb chirps, crossing arms over his chest and peering over at Archie, who is trying to pull his chair a bit closer to Elsea’s.

 

“Sit down you dramatic pissbaby,” Hadley hisses, surprisingly. “Get over yourself.”

 

Elsea looks at Hadley and nods thankfully. There are times, aside from the moments where Hadley is doing everything in her power to undermine Elsea’s being, that she really is the perfect employee.  

 

“Fine.” Webb quite literally whines like a twelve year old. “I can’t believe I’m missing a free period, for _this_.”

 

“You can shag Willa Jones later. Like you do, loudly, every _fucking_ night,” Archie argues. Webb makes a face, sitting down in the one empty swivel chair left.

 

Elsea finds her mindset changing ridiculously fast.

 

“Willa Jones?” she asks. “You’re shagging… _Willa Jones_?”

 

Her mind flickers back to two weeks ago, the day she and Anya found Archie outside the common room by himself when his aunt died. She remembers the girl, mousy, brunette, band t-shirt, sitting in Webb’s bed looking all incriminated and recently fucked. No one in their right mind would lose their virginity to Webb; she _had_ to have done it before. With Remus? Maybe. Probably.

 

_Unfair._

 

“Yes, is there a problem with that?” Webb asks, after a pause that had continued for far too long.

 

“ _No_ ,” Elsea says, to quickly. “No, that’s fine. You, you go, man. You go. Good.”

 

Webb nods his head, glaring suspiciously at at her while he turned in his seat. “Thanks?” Elsea feels everyone’s eyes on her, burning hot judgmental holes into her skin. Even Archie looks confused, chewing on his thumbnail loud and obnoxiously. She knocks his hand away from his mouth, like she always does.

 

“Don’t be gross,” Elsea jabs. She slowly feels the room falling into her control again, the glares becoming the usual vacant gazes she receives at every High Roller meeting. “So let’s carry on, shall we?”

 

Elsea goes over her usuals: asking each dealer for their reported sales of the last week or two, any problems or concerns (to which she typically rolls her eyes), a five minute rant on their incompetence, and an update on her latest product. That latest product, of course, being her fancy purple ludes.

 

Archie passes them out around the table, each dealer receiving three pill bottles and an assortment of High Roller Crown plastic baggies, silently concluding the meeting.

 

“Point gave me the dumbest complaint the other day,” Hadley says, holding a pill bottle in front of the light. “He said: I can’t be seen swallowing purple pills. It’s not masculine enough.”

 

Elsea snorts. “You told him about it?”

 

“Yeah,” she says, tiredly, “you know he thinks you’re a professor?”

 

“Me, Elsea? Or me, High Roller?”

 

“High Roller, of course,” Hadley scoffs. She turns her seat away from Elsea, now either bored with the conversation or shocked by her stupidity. Elsea can’t find it in herself to care as she watches Webb and Xavier converse quietly from the other side of the table. He’s is such an _idiot,_ Webb. Probably one of the most useless people Elsea has ever met. His grades are shit, he has absolutely no sense of manors, he doesn’t care about anything. He’s unkind, sexist, and probably racist too -- and _Willa Jones_ fucked him?

 

Elsea is baffled. How can you go from Remus Lupin to _Reid Webber_? Sure he’s good looking, but really, that’s about it. He might have a few natural brains, but he sure as hell doesn’t give two shits in lessons. It’s a wonder to just about everyone that he’s in Ravenclaw at all.

 

“Stop looking at Webb that way,” Archie whispers directly into Elsea’s ear. She flinches away from him quickly. “You’re making me _jealous_.”

 

“Piss off,” Elsea says. “I’m just trying to see what Willa sees in him. It doesn’t make _sense_.”

 

“Willa Jones isn’t just with Webb you know,” he explains. “She’s with a ton of other people too. She gets around, like, everywhere.”

 

“Really?”

 

That’s news. Willa Jones always looked so… _wholesome_ when she saw her around the corridors.

 

“Yeah, she’s everywhere,” Archie lowers his voice, incase Webb hears, “I heard Xavier is hitting it too.”

 

“ _No_ ,” Elsea nearly shouts. “He’s _vile_.” Her eyes flash to the creepy neck tattoos swooping out from Xavier’s grey jumper. He’s always got shifty ideas looking around the room, and constantly tapping his foot too. He drives her bonkers.

 

“I know, I think he might be lying but,” Archie looks around the room, “I think Remus really fucked her up. June told me this whole story.”

 

Elsea feels her pulse pick up. “You mean.. about her and Remus?”

 

She suddenly feels the need to grab him by the collar and shove him against the wall, serious Mob Boss Style.

 

“Yes,” Archie says. “ _Duh_.”

 

“When? Why did you keep this from me?”

 

Her fingernails ache to dig into his skin. How could he keep this from her?

 

“I dunno, I forgot. It wasn’t that important at the time, Elsea. I was doing my thing,” Archie explains, rolling his eyes. “You wanna hear it or not? I don’t remember all of it.”

 

“I fucking hate you, but _yes_.” Elsea huffs. “Tell me. For the love of God.”

 

Unfortunately, the dealers all look up at her as if she’s supposed to tell them something more. Archie promptly shuts his mouth and goes back to his Cool Guy Laid Back slouch.

 

“Um,” Elsea mumbles, then clears her throat. “Right, so, sell this shit, okay? Sell it like hotcakes. I want the entire castle drooling all over themselves from this. I want you to get the entire SAPS club high.”

 

Maddox grins. “Cool.”

 

“Gross.” Hadley rolls her eyes, but Elsea can’t help but see the tiny smile as she stares into the bottle of pills. Hadley loves being a drug dealer, that sick fuck.

 

They all file out of the room, Elsea holding Archie’s arm with both hands if he’d try to make a run for it. She wants to keep him in the mob room. She needs quiet for her intel. He begins to chew on his nails again, as usual. Elsea glares at him and shakes her head.

 

“Why do you do that? It’s really gross.”

 

Archie shrugs, mouth covered with his hand. “You wanna hear the story or not?”

 

“Yes,” Elsea says. Maddox is the last to leave walking out with a frown to be left with the other, less likable, dealers. “Start. Now.”

 

“ _Alright_ ,” Archie says, annoyed. “You with you’re stupid Remus Lupin thing. So, let me begin by saying it happened at Hogsmeade like, forever ago. We were with Willa for a good portion of the day. And then when we got to the Three Broomsticks, she literally bolted the hell out of there. It was like nothing I never seen before. I wasn’t too bothered, because really, I was trying to be alone with June all day, but I had to ask _why_. And it was apparently because Remus hit and ditched.”

 

Elsea falls back in her seat, mouthing, _hit and ditched_.

 

“You mean to tell me that Remus...” she starts, but she can’t finish.

 

Archie carries on. “Yeah, they dated for a good three months. June said she always thought Remus was so nice but apparently, the day after he took her virginity-”

 

“- _He took her virginity?_ ” Elsea shrieks. Not only does the fact that Remus and Willa Jones had sex irritate her, but the whole “he took her virginity” nonsense. He didn’t bloody steal it, did he?

 

“Yes. Would you relax? The day after he took her virginity he shut her out. Wouldn’t say a word to her. And then, when Willa finally got him alone, he told her they couldn’t see each other anymore at all. Not even friends. How fucked up is that?”

 

“Stop saying “took her virginity” as if it wasn’t some mutual thing,” Elsea seethes. As much as she hates the idea of Remus with someone else, the idea that Remus wasn’t a _gentleman_ about it unnerves her even more.

 

“Sorry,” Archie says, though he’s not at all sorry. “But really, he fucked her over big time. You can’t say he didn’t.”

 

Archie is right. She can’t say he didn’t. In fact, she’s furious with Remus. Elsea may have not been particularly choosy with her virginity, but she knows a lot of girls who care a lot. Anya is one of them. If anyone did what Remus did to Anya, Elsea is sure that person would be laying dead and bloody in the middle of the Great Hall.

 

She feels empty, above everything. Lost and in a big emptiness that resides in her in her stomach. Why does Remus have to be so confusing? Why can’t he be like other boys and just do what he’s supposed to do? Elsea decides then that she hates him. She’s absolutely enthralled with him, but she hates him.

 

“I can’t believe that,” Elsea says. “Remus Lupin? Not Remus…”

 

There aren’t any other Remus’ in the entire school.

 

“... _shit_.”

 

“Shit is right,” Archie says, standing up. “I’m getting massive ass cramps, sitting here. And I’m supposed to meet Maeve Daniels in the Astronomy Tower. She’s got a surprise for me, so, you know what _that_ means.”

 

Archie wriggles his eyebrows as he walks backwards towards the door.

 

“I don’t know what that means and I don’t want to know what that means,” Elsea says. “Piss off.”

 

Archie chuckles, pointing finger guns at Elsea as he opens the door. “Kill em’ Madame High Roller. Seeing you sad is boring, so snap out of it.”

 

“Hey,” Elsea says, giggling. “I’m not sad.”

 

She sends him her widest, toothiest smile.

 

“Good,” Archie says. “Keep your face just like that and Remus Lupin will clean up his act in no time.”

 

He slams the door shut loudly, causing a chilling draft to float into the room. Elsea shivers, allowing her face to slip out of that awful smile and into something a little more comfortable. Like a scowl. There’s nothing left to do in her mob room, so she stands, not bothering to push her chair in because it’ll be just as she likes it when she comes back next time.

 

Strutting to the door, she pushes it open with all her might. When the light from the corridor leaks into the room, she has to blink a few times to get used to it.

 

When she sees that Webb has been standing outside the entire time, with his muscular arms crossed, smirking, she has to blink a few times to get used to that as well.

 

“Hi?” Elsea says, folding her arms. “Is there something you need?”

 

“Not exactly,” Webb says, grinning like he’s hiding some huge secret. “But I do have something you might need, but didn’t know you needed before.”

 

-.-

 

“Good grief, Peter, stop shouting at me,” Sirius pleads, his head pressed against the wall. It’s been like this for hours. “The fact that Blackwater had been gone the past week means _nothing_.”

 

“It didn’t mean nothing an hour ago,” Peter argues. His face is bright red. Remus has never seen him so passionate about something before. “When that ruled him out as a suspect.”

 

“Yes, but Peter,” James says, his voice clipped. “We discussed the fact that he could’ve used owls to tell everyone what to do. Just because he wasn’t here physically doesn’t mean he couldn’t have controlled his dealers. This is the 20th century, c’mon.”

 

“No, no, _no_.” Peter shakes his head. “I need proof via owl then. I need to see these owls. Or the letters. Anything, without these things this entire theory is completely circumstantial.”

 

“What would seeing an owl do?” Sirius mumbles into the wall.

 

“It would give me some reason to think that a word you’re speaking is valid in the slightest,” Peter explains. “Padfoot, don’t you give a shit? You’re about to accuse one of Anya’s best friends of being the High Roller. Your case needs to be airtight.”

 

“Fuck airtight,” Sirius says. “Blackwater is the motherfucking _High Roller._ Remus, you’re the smart one, back me up here.”

 

“Peter is right,” Remus says. He’s been lying on his back for the past hour, hearing the same argument over and over again. He mentally decided that he didn’t give a bloody shit who the High Roller is a long time ago, and it does nothing but irritate him to watch James now get caught up in all the shenanigans as well. “About the Anya thing. I don’t know about the High Roller, but you can’t tell Anya that Blackwater did anything wrong or she’ll flip.”

 

Sirius lifts his head from the wall with interest. “Why’s that, Moony?”

 

Remus could tell him that Anya has been in love with Archie her entire Hogwarts-based life, but decides that would probably be incredibly stupid. Besides, he really doesn’t want to get into it right now.

 

“Dunno.” Remus sighs. “Is anyone else bored of this?”

 

“I am, man,” Jason pipes up. He tagged along after potions, just because he enjoyed the conversation and was ‘totally dying to know, man.’ And no one had told him to piss off yet.

 

“Then go home, Jason,” Peter suggests. He only sounds slightly rude. “We have to get this done.”

 

Jason sighs, nods his head. “Yeah, I’m gonna roll a joint and pass out. See you dweebos tomorrow.”

 

“Bye Jason,” Remus says sadly. He had just lost his only ally in this awful, awful, game.

 

“We aren’t dweebos,” James mutters to himself. “Now, where were we?”

 

“I think I’m gonna leave too,” Remus says then, hoisting himself into sitting position. James looks at him with sad eyes, as if he were about to leave and never come back. “I’m knackered.”

 

“You sure?” Sirius asks, he has dark purple bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t blinked for hours. “You wanna take the chart?”

 

Remus looks down at the overly marked parchment paper that had been abused since Potions that morning. It has about fifty names on it, all crossed out albeit Blackwater’s and Filch, which wasn’t a suspect anyone had been taking seriously but Sirius insisted on keeping for “comic relief.”

 

“No,” Remus says. “I think you guys should just, uh, keep it. For now.”

 

“But we don’t need it anymore.”

 

Remus stares from Sirius to the chart. “I’ve got it bloody memorized, mate,” he shakes his head, “I’m good.”

 

“Suit yourself,” Sirius chirps, just as the loud sound of footsteps startle them all. James looks at Sirius, who looks at Peter, who looks up at Remus, who rolls his eyes. “It’s them!”

 

“Act natural!” James instructs, as Peter slouches in his seat and picks up a textbook. James unleashes his golden snitch and proceeds to snatch it right back up. Sirius lounges, a cigarette between his finger, looking cool and bored. Remus just stands there.

 

Annabeth Hadley, Xavier Kensington, and Ricky Maddox come strolling down the corridor. Archie Blackwater is a few paces behind, hands stuffed into his pockets and looking as casual as the day he was born. The only reason they had chosen that spot in the first place was because it was right by where Maddox had disappeared nearly an hour before.

 

Maddox looks up at them and says, “Sup Pete?”

 

Peter glares at him. “Maddox.”

 

“You still owe me ten galleons,” Maddox continues, turning around to walk backwards as they pass. James snickers and Sirius just looks at them all dully.

 

It’s a well-crafted act, but Remus can barely manage to stand up normally. He’s just there, staring at the group of Ravenclaws. The High Rollers group. The odds are, one of them has to be the High Roller. But he sure as hell doesn’t want to hear Sirius speculate for another three hours.

 

“Fuck you.” Peter flips him off, Maddox tips his head back and bursts into deep, cruel laughter. Xavier, who is as slippery and sly as a non-Slytherin can get, leers at the pack of them. Hadley just looks away, uninterested.

 

Archie stares at them, tightlipped, eyes wandering along the list of paper as he walks by. He doesn’t even look slightly phased. In fact, he looks bored.

 

Remus can say confidently that he doesn’t think Archibald Blackwater III, spoilt rich kid who has just about everything to lose, is the High Roller. He just simply doesn’t have the drive.

 

“You see that?” Sirius says as soon as the dealers are out of earshot. “Blackwater was with them, and he’s _not_ a dealer.”

 

Peter purses his lips, but nods his head.

 

“You’re right,” James says. “Wow. Does that mean that this is it? That Blackwater is the High Roller?”

 

Remus doesn’t want to hear it. So he just shrugs. “Who knows. I’ll see you lot later, yeah?”

 

They all wave him goodbye, but immerse themselves into a conversation. Even Peter seems to be agreeing with the theory now, which disappoints Remus. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and heads the way the Ravenclaws came. He likes a certain secret passage from that corridor that leads to the library. He’d rather spend the evening amongst quiet books than the loud chatter of his mates.

 

But as he rounds the corner, an all-too-familiar voice causes him to backup and lean up against the wall, out of sight.

 

“Gross,” comes the voice of Elsea Holmes. Her voice makes Remus nearly seize up.

 

“I saw you staring at me in there,” a male voice replies. It’s deep, gruff, and very self-assured. If Remus could guess, he’d say it’s Markus Point. But he bloody well knows Markus Point would never speak to Elsea Holmes, being a muggle-born hater, of course.

 

“Yes I was just trying to see how long I could look at you without vomiting. I was able to last for a surprisingly long amount of time.”

 

“Oh come on, you love this. This whole love-hate dynamic. It’s magnetic, can’t you feel yourself getting all caught and hot in it?”

 

“Fuck you, you’re repulsive.”

 

“And you repulse me too, with your dirty mouth and the way you deal drugs. What girl deals drugs and looks like you? It’s hot.”

 

“Gross. Gross. Gross.”

 

“Don’t you think we should just do it to improve sales?”

 

“I can’t believe you’re hitting on me right now,” Elsea’s voice is filled with laughter, “and _no_ , I don’t think it would improve sales. How the hell would that improve sales?”

 

“Give me a little incentive,” he says, his voice is slimy and even makes Remus’ skin crawl. He’s about to march over there and, shit, he doesn’t know, punch the bloke in the face? “If I know I’m getting something… special, out of this, then I will definitely push those Hufflepuffs a bit harder for you.

 

“Fuck off Webb. We’re _never_ going to sleep together. Not for sales, not for fun, not for any-bloody-thing. I’d rather shag Slughorn than you.”

 

“Okay, that’s what you think now.”

 

“That’s what I will think forever. I’m not joking, I will _never_ stop thinking that. When I’m burning in hell - _Webb_ , stop looking at my _boobs_ \- I’m going to be sickened by the sound of your voice. I hate you. You are a pig. Got that? Now get the hell away from me before I hex you like I did last year.”

 

Remus risks a head poke around the corner and sees Reid Webber grab his chest like he’s just been mortally wounded. “That hex was nothing more than a love tap.”

 

“Literally,” Elsea glares at him, “fuck the hell off.”

 

Webb shrugs, laughs, and turns to walk down the corridor towards Remus. He freezes, realizing he might be caught, unable to process the conversation he’s just heard, and high-tails it back down the corridor towards his friends. He finds them in the same spot, except they’ve seemed to pack up, ready to go.

 

“Moony!” James cries, then notices the panicked look on his face. “Yo, what’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing, act natural.”

 

Remus sits down next to Peter and the others fan out. Sirius replaces the burned out cigarette with a new one.

 

Sure enough, Webb comes strolling down the corridor a few seconds later, wearing a douchebag-y muggle baseball cap, with his uniform untidy. He raises a lip at the group of them before his gaze lands on Remus. He doesn't think he could handle the idea of Webb and Elsea together. He had already shagged his first and only ex, and although Elsea isn’t exactly an ex, she’s still _someone_.

 

“Been working on your beating skills?” Sirius chirps up to him, eyebrow raised in a menacing look. “Practice shooting your loads?”

 

“Taking tips from you, mate,” Webb responds, flipping him the middle finger before turning back to Remus. “Willa sends her regards.”

 

Remus’ insides twist and turn in hate as Webb laughs rudely and carries on down the corridor.

 

At his retreating back, Sirius makes the “fuck off” motion with his arms and then stands up. “Well, that just about solidifies it, lads.”

 

James nods. “Webb, Hadley, Xavier, Maddox. And Blackwater. He’s the High Roller. No one else it could be.”

 

Remus’ stomach drops and his mind retraces the conversation he’d just overheard. Webb. Elsea. Talking about... _oh shit_.

 

Peter shrugs. “You’re right.”

 

“How about you, Moony?” Sirius pulls his from his thoughts. “You agree? Archie Blackwater is the High Roller?”

 

Remus stares ahead, running his tongue over his bottom lip and thinking. His hands feel shaky, his chest heavy. What did he just hear? Did he really…

 

His mind tries to tell him they’d just been talking about weed in a general way, that Elsea helps out with dealing sometimes. She’s good with plants. _High security plants._ She’s good with numbers. She’s smart, probably smarter than all of them, maybe save for Hadley. She could just be a consultant.

 

But... _her_ sales. _Her_ profits. He’d been talking to her like she was his boss or something.

 

Remus feels his entire body go numb. The color drains from his face as the only logical conclusion hits him.

 

Archie Blackwater isn’t the High Roller.

 

Elsea is.

 

“Well?” Sirius pushes. All the lads are staring at him, waiting for Remus’ approval. He’s the smart one. With Remus’ confirmation, they’d consider no other possibilities.

 

It’s then that he faces one of the hardest decisions of his life. The sort that, he knows, could come back to bite him in the arse either way.

 

“Yeah, gotta be him,” the words leave his mouth before he even has time to think about them, “Archie Blackwater is the High Roller.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REMUS KNOWS. WHAT DO YOU THINK WILL HAPPEN NOW???


	13. Night Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No, she literally skated away. She’s on roller skates,” Sirius explains, looking dreamy. Remus initially thought the obsession with Anya Darzi started because she was one girl he hadn’t slept with, and, she didn’t really want him back. But he’s starting to see that Sirius’ fancy for Anya has increased into more than a casual need for a hook-up. Sirius actually likes Anya, which, Remus notes, is horribly depressing. “She looks so pretty, Moony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! We just wanted to take a second to thank you guys for your continued support and kind words when it comes to High Rollers! Jordan and I have an absolute blast working on Elsea and Remus' story and we love love love all your messages on tumblr and comments on ao3! Keep them coming, it's a serious motivator!
> 
> We'd also like to thank you all for your ardent love of Archie Blackwater. When we started writing this, we thought he was a laugh, but had no idea how much we'd grow to enjoy writing Archie. It seems a lot of you really love him too! That being said, we're going to start doing a few little Archie drabbles/short story sort of things over on tumblr. You can see those on wizardweed.tumblr.com or on martiparti666.tumblr.com. You can send requests and scenes you'd like to see! 
> 
> Enjoy the chapter and let us know what you think!

One thing Elsea has always noticed about parties is that she could show up with over twenty people and not see a single of them for the rest of the night. She could have been handcuffed, attached, codependent; it didn't matter. Slowly, but surely, all of her mates would drop like flies.

Archie would be the first to disappear at the annual Gryffindor Halloween party.

 

“Go away,” Elsea pleads, pushing Archie off her shoulder. He decided to not only go way too hard at the pre-game, but also take one lude. For that he acquired the mental and physical consistency of pudding and wouldn’t stop hanging all over everyone. “God, find someone before I drop kick you, please.”

 

“Why?” he slurs. “I’m fine. I’m super fine. I’m like….fine.”

 

He then proceeds to make an attempt at the signature Elvis Presley, “Uh huh,” noise, but fails miserably. Elsea can’t imagine how large his pupil’s must be, dilated by ludes, and weed, and _her_ weed, and countless shots of Jack. Archie may have a higher tolerance for alcohol and drugs than most, but he’s certainly not strong enough to take this much before a party. He’s lucky he’s wearing those gold rimmed sunglasses.

 

“You’re terrible,” Elsea says, and she giggles loudly just to make sure everyone knows she’s having a great time. Remus has to be here somewhere. “I fucking hate you.”

 

“What’d you say, lil’ lady?” Archie says, still in his Elvis American accent. Elsea cringes. “ _Thank you very much_.”

 

“Stop it. I’m trying to look cute and you’re ruining everything.”

 

In fact, the entire party seems to be keeping one eye on Archie, like he might vomit, or die, and ruin the entire thing for everyone. They’d only been there ten minutes, and so far Archie manage to scream _You Ain’t Nothin’ But A Hound Dog_ at three separate people, and dry-heaved into two separate priceless Gryffindor artifacts that were scattered throughout the common room.

 

But since there had been no sight of Remus, Elsea could deal with him. For now.

 

Anya then grabs Elsea by the arm suddenly, steadying herself on her shoulders. “Sorry,” Anya says. “The roller skates were a terrible idea, weren’t they?”

 

Elsea had been telling her for weeks to not be a roller girl. There are too many stairs in Hogwarts to be skating around, and far too many loose floorboards. Anya happens to also be one of the clumsiest people Elsea knows when she’s wearing regular trainers, wearing wheels on the soles of her feet is practically asking for injury.

 

However Anya told her she has a very specific mental image, in which she rolls back on her heel and falls gracefully into Archie’s Elvis Presley arms. Elsea still can’t rationalize it, though. Not when Archie’s reaction time is slower than Professor Binns’ ability to notice his students all taking a nap.

 

“No, you look great,” Elsea encourages. “You’re probably the second hottest girl here.”

 

Anya looks worried. “Who’s first? Mary MacDonald? June Lee? Maeve Daniels?”

 

“ _Me_ ,” Elsea replies, irritated. If only Anya could see past her silly insecurities to understand the great sense of humor being thrown at her constantly. “Duh.”

 

Anya fidgets awkwardly, bending down to adjust her white and orange high socks around her calf. “I think tonight could be the night,” Anya mutters. “For you and for me. Or you, maybe not me. I mean we’re both looking good, and we prepared _so_ much…”

 

She’s right, they did prepare quite a lot. For almost a week now they’ve been meticulously planning their outfits, hair, and how they’re going to land their men in multiple scenarios. Anya is trying the “look hot because at the bare bones of it, Archie is an idiot” approach. And in her booty shorts, she’s been pretty successful thus far. Archie even whispered in Elsea’s ear, “Lets run off to a closet and take our clothes off.” Of course, that was twenty minutes after he swallowed his purple pill, and they both know what kind of _moods_ those start.

 

Elsea has decided on the classic mantrap.

 

With the help of Anya, who happens to be a man trap expert. Though, after Elsea asked her if she’d ever do one on Archie, Anya responded, “Please, I’m not that desperate.”

 

Despite the cruel insult, Elsea isn’t too offended. She _is_ a bit desperate at this point, not just for Remus but for answers that only he can provide.

 

The mantrap comes with several key steps. Though most of it boils down to: sexy outfit, a cute _new_ boy to flirt with, Remus jealous out of his mind, then a heated snog session-turned-sexual encounter.

 

Everything is so-well-planned that it’s going to come off as casual, and a random event.

 

Though, in order to man trap, she needs to see the bloody man. Remus is nowhere to be found.

 

“I need another drink,” Elsea barks, running her hands over her genie, sheer pants. Archie stumbles forward, planting himself onto a sofa and grinning at the girl sitting next to him. Elsea thinks she’s seen the blonde, big-eyed girl before, but doesn’t care enough to think about it. So she leans over and says, “Stay here.”

 

Archie nods. “Bring me another one, Jeannie. Do that nose wiggle you know I like.”

 

“Fuck right off.”

 

Elsea makes her way to the stocked table of liquor, Anya following behind her carefully, apologizing as she grabs and gropes just about everyone who she passes. After that, she rolls thigh first into the table, clutching her tiny leg and shaking her head. “I’ve got to take these off.”

 

“ _No_ , that ruins the outfit. You just become a girl in booty shorts,” Elsea insists, taking a red cup and dumping some vodka into it. She considers finding something to mix it with, like pineapple juice or coca-cola, but decides against it. If she has to spend another minute sober at this party, she might have to ask Anya to run her over. “Unless you want to be that. I doubt Archie would care.”

 

“He’s gonna get with that blonde, I can tell. He gave her the _look_.”

 

Elsea glances over her shoulder absentmindedly. “Which blonde? Oh, that one? Nah, I don’t think so.”

 

“Archie can get with anyone, Elsea,” Anya insists, frowning desperately. Elsea pours extra vodka into Anya’s cup for good measure.

 

“Not her. I’m pretty sure she has a girlfriend.”

 

“Oh.” Anya brightens. “Well, that’s good.”

 

Anya’s insecurities aside, there’s a loud boom, a shift in music, and suddenly the familiar, opening beats of the BeeGees classic, _Stayin Alive_ , fills the common room. Elsea, interested, looks around. “What loser is blasting this?”

 

Anya frowns. “You don’t even wanna know.”

 

With reaction like that, Elsea figures it out pretty quickly.

 

Sure enough, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew are dancing through the center of the party. They’re both in suits, Peter with a drawn on mustache and Sirius in very expensive looking raybans and an earpiece. No one seems amused around them. Elsea checks out of their little routine once she spots Remus walking behind them in a dirty t-shirt, looking bored, tired and out of place as usual. Her face heats up when his half closed eyes head her way and she turns around immediately. If they were on speaking terms, she would’ve waved and shown off her red lipstick.

 

“He looks so _good_ ,” Elsea whispers to Anya.

 

“Who?” Anya yells over the music. “Sirius? I mean, yeah, but he’s such a--”

 

“No,” Elsea hisses. “ _Remus_.”

 

Anya peers back over her shoulder. Remus is lurking near James and Lily, who are dressed as Daphne and Fred, with a fresh cup in his hand. He looks drunk already.

 

“I honestly don’t see it,” Anya says. “He always looks like the before image on those adverts for sleeping medication. And I honestly can’t get Archie’s testicle theory out of my head; like, it makes sense, right? Maybe Willa shamed him or something… so he’s afraid of love, or whatever. What is he supposed to be, anyway?”

 

Elsea shrugs. “A God?”

 

“ _Wow_ , look who is pathetic and pinning now.” The liquor must have given Anya a bit more courage than usual. Elsea glares at her. “Sorry. I just, well, I want this mantrap to work, it’s my baby. But Remus? He’s so… he’s so not _worthy_ of you.”

 

Elsea can’t help but blush a bit. “Wait, you think? No way. If anything--” but she can’t bring herself to say that she’s not worthy of him. Because, honestly, she’s Elsea fucking Holmes. “Whatever. I’m going to mantrap him to hell.”

 

“That’s the spirit!” Anya cries, roller-skating backwards, bringing her alcohol-filled cup to her lips. “Make that boy fall in love with-”

 

But she doesn’t finish, because her skate slips forward and Anya starts toppling backwards. Elsea lunches forward in an attempt to stop her from landing on her back, but Anya is already halfway down.

 

“Shit!” Elsea cries, she squeezes her eyes shut. Second hand embarrassment is one of the worst things. “I’m sorry!”

 

Elsea never hears a thud, or a crash, or Anya’s blood curdling screams. Rather, she hears a very self-assured, cocky, “I got you, roller girl.”

 

Unfortunately, it’s not the cocky voice either of them wants to hear.

 

“Sirius,” Anya says, only slightly out of breath. She glares at him, completely unpleased. Elsea has a feeling she’d rather have fallen on her bum. “Can you prop me back up or…?”

 

“Ah, but wouldn’t you rather me here, gazing into your eyes, all close and what not?” Sirius suggests. Anya frowns.

 

“Sirius, _lay off_ ,” Elsea warns. Over his shoulder she can see that Archie is looking at them, his sunglasses pushed down the bridge of his nose to get a better look. Well, that’s something. Elsea would have to tell Anya about that later.

 

Sirius allows Anya to stand, and once she’s on her feet, she rolls over to Elsea’s side and grabs her drink from her hands. “So, drink? Either of you? Both of you?” Sirius asks. “Elsea what are you supposed to even _be_?”

 

Anya begins chugging Elsea’s drink, leaving her to answer all the questions. “Actually Sirius, yeah. Make me something strong. And I’m Jeannie, as in I Dream of Jeannie. It’s a muggle show so I wouldn’t expect you to get it.”

 

“Oh!” Sirius says, putting both of his hands up in mock defense. “ _Sorry_ I don’t get your cool obscure muggle references.”

 

Elsea half shrugs and turns back to Anya, only to find that she’s completely disappeared into the crowd. Great, now she’s alone.

 

“‘Fuck you Sirius Black,” Elsea says, grabbing her half fixed drink from his hand.

 

Sirius stares at her, surprised. “What? Why?”

 

“Just fuck you.”

 

Elsea finishes her first drink off in one, massive gulp.

 

-.-

 

Remus hates parties. Remus especially hates costume parties. Remus just hates a lot of things, these days.

 

An entire week of pretending he didn’t know that Elsea Holmes is the infamous, villainous, drug lord _mastermind_ known as the High Roller had been even more mentally exhausting than pretending he didn’t like her. Plus, another exhausting thing? Getting out of patrol on Friday evening. He’d faked ill, telling Lily he had yet another overnight bug and getting Alice Hackney to fill in his shift. Then, of course, Madame Pomfrey sent him away, because she could always tell if he’s faking or not. Remus ended up hiding in the prefects bathroom to study, ashamed, with only Moaning Myrtle to keep him company.

 

Alas, Remus would have preferred to spend this Saturday evening in the library, avoiding the drunken shouts of his peers or in his bed, sleeping away his drama.

 

Of course, his mates wouldn’t let that happen. “You are not missing the very last annual Gryffindor Halloween party of our Hogwarts careers,” Sirius had told him, poking his finger not so kindly into Remus’ chest. “We have to complete seven years of best mate costumes with our finest yet.” He’d produced his silver tie. “FBI agents, yeah?”

 

Remus agreed to go, but not to wear the dumbass costume. Instead, he had pulled on a t-shirt he wore during the last full moon, with a few dirt smudges and insisted he was a zombie. A lazy, not-really-all that dangerous zombie.

 

Which is exactly what he’s trying to explain to a very bloody looking Mary MacDonald.

 

“I don’t get it,” she says, narrowing her eyes. Though, Remus could hardly tell she’s doing it, as her entire body is doused in a sticky red substance.

 

“I have no fucking idea what you are,” Remus replies, a little defensively, as he brings his beer to his lips. It’s stale, and the keg James and Peter hauled in from Hogsmeade earlier in the day though one of their secret passages brought to them by the Marauders Map must have been flat. But Remus doesn’t care, not really. He’s just planning on downing as many as he can in the short appearance he plans to make, and then escape to his dorm for some peace and quiet. “I mean, you look frightening as hell, Mary.”

 

“Why don’t you take a guess?”

 

Remus really hates a pun, but he can’t help himself. “Bloody Mary?”

 

Mary laughs a sort of cackle and tips her head back maniacally. “Very funny. I’m Carrie. You know, like from Stephen King novel, Carrie? They made a film about it? Crazy unpopular religious girl wins prom queen as a cruel prank, gets pigs blood poured on her, and then she goes and uses her freaky telekinetic powers to brutally murder everyone in the town? Including her psycho mother?”

 

Remus blinks, takes another drink of her beer, and then shakes his head. “Not ringing any bells.”

 

Mary frowns. “You really need to broaden your horizons, Remus. Here.” She reaches up and rubs both her hands all over her cheeks. Remus watches, confused, before Mary reaches out and smacks both palms on his dirty white t-shirt. “Ah, much better.”

 

He looks down. “Oh, thanks.”

 

“Lighten up, Lupin,” she chirps, smacking his chest once more, “it’s a party. Which means you should be smiling. Having fun. Dance with me?”

 

Remus watches as Mary shakes her hips in the long, possibly pig blood stained ball gown. Her hair drips red liquid onto the carpet. “Um, I’m not much of a dancer.”

 

Mary shrugs, turning around and bonking her hips against the nearest bloke. It turns out to be Cory Levy, and because she’s Mary, she grabs him and pulls him against her. Cory nearly shrieks in terror, and then delight, as Mary shimmies up and down his body.

 

Eyebrows raised, Remus turns around and surveys the room. He notices James and Lily dancing near Cory and Mary. Across the room he can see Sirius holding two drinks in his hands, looking around as if he too were surveying the room. They lock eyes and Sirius makes a gesture to beckon him over.

 

Reluctantly, Remus weaves through the party-goers and manages to meet Sirius by the stairs to the dormitories.

 

“Have you seen Anya?” Sirius shouts over the Donna Summer song. He doesn’t really need to shout, but Remus knows Sirius loves the drama of it all. And he’s a belligerent drunk. “She asked me to get her a drink and then she skated away.”

 

“Skated away? Is that supposed to be another one of your metaphors?”

 

“No, she literally skated away. She’s on roller skates,” Sirius explains, looking dreamy. Remus initially thought the obsession with Anya Darzi started because she was one girl he hadn’t slept with, and, she didn’t really want him back. But he’s starting to see that Sirius’ fancy for Anya has increased into more than a casual need for a hook-up. Sirius actually likes Anya, which, Remus notes, is horribly depressing. “She looks so pretty, Moony.”

 

“I bet she does,” Remus replies, as sympathetic as he can manage. He finishes the cup in his hand and eyes the keg to Sirius left. He waits behind Camilla McKinnon, already drunk, as she attempts to refill her cup. She giggles loudly, then swears, as she can’t manage to get any beer out. “Here,” Remus says, scooting around to help her, “let me.”

 

Camilla, dressed as a poor man’s Greek goddess in a white bed sheet, relinquishes the tap by handing it to him. “Oh, thanks!” she giggles. “I’m not very good at--”

 

But Remus doesn’t catch what she’s not very good at, because the music cuts out and a familiar, girlish giggle catches his attention. He’s just finished pouring both himself and Camilla a new cup when he glances over his shoulder to see Elsea Holmes pressing her body up against Owen McNeilson, a Hufflepuff quidditch player and one of Sirius’ many sworn enemies.

 

His breath catches in his throat as he notices that Elsea is wearing hardly _any_ clothes. And he’s not complaining. Dressed in a pink bra-like top, her entire stomach is bare. And Remus can’t stop staring.

 

“Oh, uh, thanks Remus!” Camilla McKinnon calls again, carefully extracting his cup from his hand. She turns to see what he’s looking at, and she too stops in her place. “Holy shit.”

 

Elsea giggles again, and places her hand on Owen’s shoulder. Owen looks completely into it. Remus, he can’t even believe it, feels a spark of jealousy surge through him. There’s been no denying that Elsea is beautiful, fitter than hell, really, but especially right now. She looks good. Damned good.

 

Her head turns toward him as she flips her hair over her shoulder. It’s then that he catches sight of her lips.

 

Red. She’s wearing red lipstick.

 

If there is one thing that Remus has always considered to be his vice when it comes to women, it’s that. There’s something so entirely sexy about red lipstick, and on Elsea, well, she’s taken it to a whole different level.

 

“Mate,” Sirius smacks Remus on the back, ripping him from his shameless ogling, “take a bloody picture, it’ll last longer. Really. I have a camera and she’d be great during those long, cold, lonely nights when you’re--”

 

Remus slugs Sirius’ shoulder before purposefully taking his eyes off of Elsea and Owen. “Don’t.”

 

Sirius pouts, rubbing his arm while still balancing Anya’s cup. “That hurt.”

 

“Good.”

 

“You’re just full of syllables tonight, Moony,” Sirius replies, shaking his head. “I’m off to find a more conversational companion.”

 

With that, Sirius launches himself into the crowd and off to find his One True Love, or at least, that’s what he yells to Remus as he saunters away.

 

Remus attempts to keep his gaze away from Elsea, but now she’s _dancing_ with McNeilson. Right in front of him.

 

Right in… _front of him_.

 

Remus stops in his place and stares at her. Just then, Elsea’s gazes flickers over to him and her face falters just slightly. She looks away just as quickly, laughing rather loudly, and throwing her arms around Owen for the millionth time since he looked over. _Oh_ , Remus thinks, _so that’s it._

 

“Camilla,” Remus says, looking at the jittery blonde. She has to be at least a head shorter than him.

 

“Yes?” She answers hopefully, taking a sip of foam and cringing. _No, not her,_ Remus thinks immediately. The girl is nearly an inside joke, and Remus doesn’t think that would leave much of an impression on Elsea.

 

“Never mind.” Remus rushes off. He’s got to find Mary.

 

Pushing through the crowd, Remus searches for a girl doused in blood in a skimpy white dress. Should be easy, considering she’s gotten mysterious red goo on just about every surface and every boy in the common room. But, surprisingly, it’s not.

 

However, Elsea Holmes seems impossible to get rid of. Because just has he’s weaving through the crowd, he bumps right into her. This time, she’s without Owen McNeilson.

 

“Remus!” she cries, pretending to be surprised. Remus knows better, though. She steps backward and looks at him, eyes a little glossy. “Well, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were ignoring me!”

 

Remus decides then and there that being this close to Elsea and her red lipstick is a major crisis for him. So he says, “Oh, hey Els. Sorry, I’m trying to find Mary. Have you seen her?”

 

Elsea’s red lips fall into a hard line. He doesn’t like being on the receiving end of one of her Bitch stares, but he can’t avoid it this time. “Mary who?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest, which results in the bra-like top pushing her breasts up. His eyes flicker to her chest.

 

“Mary Queen of Scots,” Remus responds, coolly. “Who else would it be, Holmes?”

 

The nicknames suggest teasing, but Remus knows his tone is anything but.

 

Elsea, however, just tips her head to the side. “She’s dead, Remus.”

 

“Hmm,” he muses, “should have known.”

 

Elsea Holmes, with her big brown eyes and sharp cheekbones, happens to be making a small fortune each week by growing and selling her own weed. And she has no bloody idea that Remus knows. It’s jarring to experience.

 

“Where were you yesterday?” she asks, tightening her arms so that her breasts push even farther up. “Patrol was a bit dull with Alice Hackney poking her head into every nook and cranny. Even _you’ve_ got less of a stick up your arse.”

 

“Overnight bug,” Remus tells her.

 

Elsea raises a brow. “Again?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“You sure it’s just an overnight bug?” Elsea prods, stepping closer. “Or maybe one big underlying problem?”

 

_Where were_ you _a week ago at approximately 9 PM?_ Remus almost asks. Instead he settles for, “Oh look I think I see Mary.”

 

“Good for you.”

 

“Indeed it is.”

 

Elsea squints, then waves her hand in defeat. “Catch you later then, pal.”

 

Pal, Remus almost laughs. She’s so angry with him.

 

Just as he’s about to make a move around her to the imaginary Mary in the distance, Elsea’s whisked away by Archie in a strange, discomforting chokehold.

 

-.-

 

“What the hell are you doing?” Elsea whines, squirming in Archie’s grasps. He’s not laughing, exactly, more like wheezing. “You sound like a dying pig.”

 

“It’s fine,” Archie insists, hauling her off towards the sofas. “You’re not fine.”

 

“What do you mean? And get off.”

 

“No. Stop talking to Remus. He’s a prick.”

 

“Get off me.”

 

“ _Stop_.”

 

“Get _off_.”

 

Elsea pulls her wand out of her side just to jab the tip slightly in Archie’s ears. That, for some reason, has always been his weak spot.

 

“Ow,” Archie drops her immediately, sitting on the nearest couch. To his left, Alice Hackney and Frank Longbottom are snogging aggressively. “Mother _fuck_.”

 

Even boring Alice Hackney gets to make-out with her boyfriend. Elsea can’t even get Remus Lupin to stare for more than five seconds at her breasts.

 

Archie’s sunglasses are now off, hanging tangled in one of the many chains around his neck. The pupils look fine, his blue irises still thin but no longer thread-like. He peels off one of his sideburns.

 

“You’re ruining your costume.”

 

“Why am I suddenly so sober? The ludes suck,” Archie stresses. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. Just... June Lee found a _boyfriend_ and Maeve Daniels won’t speak to me unless I agree to meet her parents. What the hell even is that? Why would I meet her parents? That’s insane. It sucks, you know? And Now my top picks are unavailable.”

 

He flicks his sideburn on to the floor.

 

“You reckon Anya would be into me?” he asks. Elsea feels her jaw drop. “What?” he continues, noticing her expression. “Never mind. You’re right, she’s way too good for me. And she’s probably into that commitment thing. Maybe when I’m twenty-five.”

 

Elsea has literally no words for him. This is the first time in their friendship that she has no witty comeback or remark poised. She just stares.

 

“Elsea, babe, you look sick…” Archie waves a hand in front of her face. “Do you need me to find Anya?”

 

Elsea shakes her head desperately and manages to change the subject. “Speaking of, have you seen her? Last I saw she was skating around the fireplace avoiding Sirius.”

 

Archie frowns. “Is he still bothering her? Because if he is I can rectify that problem.”

 

He cracks his knuckles in a way that Elsea supposes should be intimidating, but it mostly looks dumb in the Elvis costume with one sideburn.

 

“I dunno,” Elsea responds, quickly. She grabs the stupid Jeannie hat off the top of her head and tosses it on the ground next to Archie’s lone sideburn. It’s officially that point in the night. “Fuck that hat. It was itching me the whole night.”

 

Archie stares at it. “You’re ruining _your_ costume. Now all you are is a hot chick in weird lingerie.”

 

Elsea glares at him. “I need alcohol.”

 

Archie nods. “I will solve that problem.”

 

With that, he reaches over and snags a barely touched cup out of Frank Longbottom’s hand and passes it to Elsea. She downs it within ten seconds. He smiles proudly. “Another?”

 

Elsea nods.

 

“Coming right up!”

 

Archie bursts up from the sofa and heads back to the drinks table. Elsea leans back on the sofa, crossing her legs, and catches the eye of Owen, who is talking to a perky sixth year Hufflepuff. He smiles at her, then quite literally pushes the girl aside to join her.

 

Elsea has to admit, the attention is nice, but definitely coming from the wrong boy.

 

“Hey,” Owen says, about to settle into Archie’s vacant spot. “You look lonely.”

 

For a second, Elsea thinks about agreeing and launching all her efforts onto him. But then she looks at him, at his athletic build and boring smile and realizes it’s not even worth it. She could hook up with Owen tonight, but honestly, it wouldn’t mean anything. And he’s just so _boring_.

 

“I’m not, excuse me.” With that, Elsea follows after Archie and leaves a dejected Owen behind. At the drinks table, she finds Archie with Jason and Fernando, pouring shots into several little glasses.

 

“Holmes!” Jason cries, throwing his arms around her as she approaches. “Shots with us?”

 

“Hell yeah,” Elsea replies, grinning as Archie hands her a shot glass filled with clear vodka. Fernando knocks his against hers and then the four of them tip their shots back. “Oh God!” Elsea cries, sputtering as the liquid burns her throat. “That is _not_ vodka.”

 

“No way, man!” Fernando cries in his exaggerated surfer-boy American accent. “That’s like the High Roller equivalent of everclear! You’ll be so fucked up in like, ten minutes!”

 

Elsea can’t even begin to complain. The rate this party is going, well, she could use a little fucking up.

 

“I put one of those High Roller purple pills in their this morning, crushed it up into tiny little pieces and then, _BAM!_ ” Jason shouts. “Instant perfect drink.”

 

Archie claps him on the shoulder. “Proud of you.”

 

“That High Roller, man,” Fernando continues, looping his arm around Jason’s waist and tugging him closer, “I swear, Jesus reincarnated.”

 

Archie snorts as Elsea raises her eyebrows, amused. “Is that so?” she asks. Archie, mocking Fernando, swoops his arm over Elsea shoulders. She leans against him, already feeling a bit unstable.

 

“We should smoke later,” Jason points out, looking between the two of them. “Or now, we should smoke now _and_ smoke later.”

 

“Smoke all night!” Fernando cries. There’s a strange woop behind them, which Elsea assumes is totally unrelated. Sure enough, she sees James Potter following Lily Evans up the stairs to the girls dormitory. Lily looks drunk, like _drunk drunk_ , and Elsea almost wishes they’d stay down in the common room so she could observe the Tyrant in action.

 

“Later, yeah,” Archie agrees. “You provide the stuff?”

 

“Always.” Jason nods, a dreamy look on his face.

 

Elsea smiles. Actually, she provides the stuff, always.

 

Just as Archie finishes filling another round of shots, something white catches Elsea’s eye. An angel. Or an Angel in the form of Willa Jones. She’s wandering, stumbling slightly in her white slippers, giggling and pointing at someone in the distance. Elsea grins wickedly, an idea coming to mind.

 

“Fill up another, Arch,” Elsea insists. “I have a plan.”

 

“Double fisting? _Alright_.”

 

Elsea doesn’t have time to say no because Willa is crossing the room quickly.

 

“Hey!” Elsea shouts. She waves her hands in the air. “Willa Jones! You! Come here.”

 

Willa looks up through sleepy eyes, pointing at herself in confusion. This could be the worst or the best decision Elsea has made all night, but she’s too drunk to care.

 

“Yes, you! Come!”

 

She wonders if Willa has any idea who she is. They’ve ran in different circles throughout their entire Hogwarts careers almost miraculously. In fact, it’s almost weird they haven’t crossed paths.

 

Willa pushes past another boy in a cheap American Football jersey and steps into their vicinity.

 

“You wanted me?” Willa asks, then she hiccups.

 

Elsea nods her head, turning to the table and grabbing the last remaining shot glasses. “Yes, here. I want to take a shot with you.”

 

“Me? Have we met before?”

 

Elsea shrugs her shoulder lazily. That’s why they haven’t crossed paths, Willa asks too many questions.

 

“No, but I’m being _friendly_ , silly.” Elsea pinches Willa on the cheek a bit too hard. It’s then she realizes she’s reached ‘the point of no return’ on the fucked up scale. “Come on.”

 

“You’re Elsea Holmes, aren’t you?” Willa asks, brushing Elsea’s hand away. “I’ve heard about you, from Webb.”

 

Elsea frowns. “Have you now?” She hands Willa the other shot glass and Willa takes it without any qualms. “Hope only good things.”

 

Willa shrugs. “I can’t even remember, to be honest.”

 

“Gee,” Elsea forces a large, fake smile. “Well, here’s to,” she racks her brain for just what they should be cheering to, then settles on, “ _accepting that our past loves move on_.”

 

Willa, who is beyond drunk, just stares at Elsea. “That’s a weird thing to-”

 

But Elsea chimes her shot glass against Willa’s and Willa, in party girl reflex, shuts right up and tosses her shot back.

 

“You know, I think Webb actually told me you’re a huge bitch, or something like that.”

 

Elsea merely nods.

 

“I think, that you should probably stop listening to Webb so often. It really can’t be good for you to ingest that much crap on a daily basis.”

 

“What?”

 

Across the room, Remus Lupin is staring at her with death eyes. His mouth is set in a hard frown, his eyebrows flat and unamused. He looks down at his feet, then back in Elsea’s eyes, expression suddenly unreadable. Then he shakes his head, and says something to the girl slathered in blood on his right.

 

Mission: _accomplished._

 

“Sorry was I talking to you?” Elsea asks idly.

 

Willa looks at her, bewildered. “Yes you just told me-”

 

“-Have you seen Archie Blackwater?”

 

Elsea pushes past Willa, searching for her friend who has disappeared yet again, and losing herself in the crowd on the party.

 

-.-

 

The night starts winding down just as things started getting good, in Remus’ opinion. By this time, Sirius has given up trying to find Anya and has settled in a corner, looking wish-washy at all of the couples dancing and embracing, but at least he’s around. James had been gone literally all night, but he’s finally made a return with a giant, glaring hickey on his jawline. Peter is hovering, which he always does, kind of, but he’s also talking to a shockingly cute Ravenclaw who is dressed as a Slytherin. Remus thinks that’s a bloody brilliant costume.

 

He also thinks that Mary is being brilliant, hovering around as well as Peter is. He hadn’t told her that he’s using her to make a statement to Elsea, but he’s sure she knows. And if she doesn’t, there isn’t a doubt in his mind that she gives zero shits what so ever. That’s the thing about Mary, she’s just down for a good time.

 

“People are leaving,” she tells Remus, bloody head resting against his bicep. Most of the blood that was previously slathered on her body had wiped off from rubbing against so many random boys and girls, and him. “Should we all get going?”

 

Sirius yawns. “I suppose that would classify this as an unsuccessful night.”

 

“I dunno,” James nearly sings, “I think it’s been pretty bloody successful.”

 

“Did she let you touch them?” Peter whispers, poorly. Mary rolls her eyes, but still grins carelessly.

 

“Okay… for a _second_ ,” James lowers his voice, looking around cautiously. “She told me I can’t tell you guys anything else, though.”

 

“Can’t tell us?” Sirius asks, bewildered. “Then what’s the point?”

 

“Merlin, Black,” Mary pipes up. “You really don’t understand women, do you? You poor thing. No wonder Anya has been skating in the shadows all night.”

 

“No, Elsea told me she got sick and went back to her dorm.”

 

Mary cackles. “Elsea is a bloody liar, then. I just saw her.”

 

Remus grimaces. _They have no idea._

 

Just then, for some reason, Remus glances up. The entire room is nearly vacant, albeit a few stragglers and a group of stoners by the extinguished fire place. Amongst that group is Maddox, Jason, Fernando, Archie, Hadley, and surprisingly, Anya. She’s sitting half on Archie’s lap, rollerblades on her hands, her bare feet in Fernando’s lap, chatting away. Remus quickly looks back at Sirius, to see if he notices or if he’s okay, but he’s just attempting to rile Peter up by bringing up his apparently large cock size.

 

Remus looks back at the group of stoners and nearly drops Mary off his body. It seems that Elsea Holmes has materialized out of nowhere, now standing behind Archie with her hands over his eyes. She’s laughing. She looks happy. For some reason, that causes the pit in Remus’ stomach to grow larger. He’d really like to do just that in the end, make Elsea happy. She’s so pretty when she smiles, and her laugh may be a bit sharp to the ears, but it’s not an awful sound.

 

If anything, it’s better than the sound of her being mad at him.

 

For a moment, Remus wonders if he can do such a thing. If he is capable of making her laugh the way Archie does, or be her confidant like Anya. How would that feel? To be wedged into her life so perfectly? Of course in that version of reality he gets to kiss her all over again, this time for more than five seconds, and this time without running off like a scared little boy.

 

She sits down, disappearing into the crowd of people, taking Remus sudden moment of sentiment with her.

 

It would never work. She’s the High Roller. Remus is a _werewolf_. Everything is just way too complicated.

 

“Look at Remus, I think he’s having some sort of existential crisis,” Peter says, suddenly shifting the attention towards him. Remus flushes.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Nah, just dozing off.” James swoops in with the save, as always. “At a _party_.”

 

“Sorry,” Remus mumbles. “I had a lot of tequila.”

 

“He did,” Mary agrees, patting his chest. “Took it like a champ.”

 

“Doesn’t look like it now.” Sirius says, frowning.

 

“Piss off,” Mary says, and then she reaches over Remus just to flick Sirius on the side of his head. “So bloody annoying tonight.”

 

“Well _I’m_ annoyed,” Sirius groans, batting Mary’s hand away. “I thought I’d actually get to snog Anya tonight-”

 

“- _What_? Did you just say finally?” Peter shouts. “ _You haven’t snogged?_ ”

 

Sirius’ eyes widen as he hushes Peter incessantly. Remus can’t hold back his laughter. No wonder he’s so secretive about his “great relationship” with Anya, there barely is one.

 

“No. I lost her in the first ten minutes and now I can’t find her,” Sirius says finally.

 

Remus decides he’s too tired to hear anymore of this nonsense for the rest of the night. “Well she’s right over there,” Remus tells Sirius. “Sitting with Archie, your so called High Roller, so do what you will with that.”

 

“Really _?_ ”

 

Sirius stands up suddenly, knocking over a half drunk cup of water that Remus had shoved in his hand over.

 

“C’mon.” He looks directly at Remus. “We’re going over there and hanging out with them. I’m _tired_ of this _bullshit_.”

 

Remus partially wants to applaud Sirius for his strength but he’d also rather jump out the window he’s leaning against then get a close look at Elsea Holmes again. Especially after he watched her take that shot with Willa; it’s clear she’s not fucking around anymore.

 

“Can’t you take James?”

 

James rolls his eyes. “We can all go.”

 

“Even me?” Mary asks, her upper lip curled in displeasure. Since the quidditch match that would forever live in infamy, Mary has displayed her very own version of dislike for Elsea Holmes. Remus can’t blame her.

 

“Yes, especially you,” Remus says almost pleadingly, pulling her up from her seat on the windowsill with him.

 

Peter shuffles his feet and looks at the Ravenclaw/Slytherin. “You coming Maeve?”

 

“ _Hell_ no,” she snaps. “Archie fucking Blackwater is a _piss blanket arsehole_.”

 

And she stomps away with no further explanation.

 

“Okay then,” Peter says, shrugging. “Shall we?”

 

They all nod their heads dreamily. Sirius claps his hands. “Lets move, team.”

 

Everyone heads over in a tight knit bunch, Sirius leading the crowd almost aggressively. The way they move reminds Remus of a group of storm troopers, and Sirius would be Darth Vader. When he whispers this in Mary’s ear, she frowns.

 

“I don’t know what that is.”

 

“Star Wars?” Remus suggests, “Come on. Greatest series of our generation?”

 

She squints her eyes. “Sounds like bad special effects to me.”

 

“How do you not know what Star Wars is when you’re dressed as some other lesser known muggle movie?”

 

Mary shrugs.

 

“Hello!” Sirius greets, his voice almost aggressively fake. Mary laughs at it into Remus’ back, hiding behind him playfully.

 

“Shit, the FBI is here.” Maddox chuckles. He’s dressed as Rocky Balboa, causing every short laugh to make his pecks ripple in response. “No pot, then.”

 

Elsea laughs, leaning against Maddox. “Ask to see his badge,” she suggests. “Sirius show us your badge.”

 

Sirius pats his pockets, looking around for it. “Shit.”

 

“I have mine.” Peter steps forward, brandishing the plastic badge that read ‘Wiz 5.0’ as if it had some sort of importance.

 

“Is that real gold? Hand it over.” Maddox swipes the badge from Peter’s hands. “You owe me.”

 

“Fine, take it. It was four knuts.”

 

“Still cool, though.”

 

He stuffs it in one of his boxing gloves.

 

Anya is glaring at Remus, her eyes asking a million, unforgiving questions. She should hate him, he supposes. After all, he hadn’t been especially nice to Elsea lately. And he’s currently holding hands with Mary, in front of her, like it’s nothing.

 

He lets go of her hand.

 

“So what are you all still doing here?” James asks, sounding a bit more friendly than Sirius.

 

This time Archie answers.

 

“We were about to leave for a quick sesh, actually.”

 

“Really?” Sirius asks, surprised. “What about S.A.P.S.?”

 

Archie looks at Anya, “What _about_ S.A.P.S., Any?”

 

Remus watches as she tries not to smile, spinning one of the wheels on her roller skates.

 

“I protest mostly against ludes,” Anya says, focused on skate more than anything. “That’s my main objective.”

 

“So you’re okay with weed now?” Sirius sounds excited.

 

“No, no,” Anya quickly revises herself, “I just, well. Sometimes it’s okay. As long as it’s not done… _destructively_.”

 

_By destructively she means without Archie_ , Remus thinks. He nods his head, now understanding how and why Elsea and Anya are friends in the first place.

 

“Oh,” Sirius says flatly.

 

There is a short pause.

 

“Can we join?” Peter asks, looking mostly at Elsea. Remus assumes it’s because that’s who he feels the most comfortable with, strangely.

 

She smiles, nodding her head. It’s clear by her demeanor that she is _gone_ drunk. “Of course you can, Pete. We can have another sing along.”

 

-.-

 

The cool October air rushing against Elsea’s cheeks can’t even sober her now. She’s been far gone for over an hour now, running between Owen, Archie, Anya (when she could actually find her), and having an honest good night. An honest good night while being obsessively aware of Remus’ movements at all times.

 

She can relax now. Remus is on her left, two people away from her at the lake, sitting on the grass peacefully. She didn’t intend on sitting in the perfect spot for Remus and her to make eye contact, but it happened, and she’s grateful for it. Now she can know he’s looking for sure, rather than guessing if she feels eyes on her back or not.

 

Since it’s October, and bloody freezing out, Elsea’s got her sheepskin coat thrown over her costume. She wasn’t too happy that it’s ruining her _Whatever you wish, Master_ aesthetic, considering she hasn’t even been able to use that line on Remus, but she supposes that’s better than freezing her nipples off. Everyone is bundled up around her, except Maddox, who is still shirtless. Except he’s got some strange heat billowing around him, but she’s too drunk to worry about that.

 

“Archie,” Elsea sighs, reaching over and smacking him upside the head, “Nails. _Stop_.”

 

He doesn’t respond, because he’s too busy with Hadley, who is fully sitting in his lap. He’s got that lazy, flirtatious grin on his face that he only uses when he’s totally stoned and trying to get some. Strangely, Hadley isn’t denying his advances.

 

“So you have a tennis court _and_ a pool in your house?” she asks, batting her eyelashes.

 

Archie nods proudly. “Indoor and outdoor.”

 

“The pool or the tennis court?”

 

“Both.”

 

Hadley wraps her arms around Archie’s neck. “Tell me more.”

 

Elsea feels her supper coming up, so she decides to tune them out, for now. Rather she looks at Anya, who is near crying, sitting between to Sirius and Peter as they pass a spliff back and forth over her, breathing smoke all into her hair and outfit.

 

“You okay?” Elsea mouths. Anya shakes her head no.

 

“Love you,” Elsea mouths again. “You’re pretty.”

 

Anya rolls her eyes, swatting a cloud of smoke that had inconveniently gathered in her face. She blinks, coughs dramatically, and glares at Sirius.

 

Just about then, Elsea hears wet kissing noises coming from her right.

 

“Get a fucking room!” Fernando shouts mockingly, throwing a tuft of grass at Archie and Hadley. They don’t respond, not even when Maddox starts to whooping and cheering.

 

Elsea refuses to look at the couple on sheer principle. Though, the sucking sounds and slight moans coming from Archie are enough for her. So instead she reaches over to her left and snags the spliff straight out of James’ hand.

 

“Gimme that,” she says, taking a long hit, feeling the smoke fill her lungs. James just laughs, leaning back on the grass.

 

“That was us, once.” James is so gone that Elsea thinks Lily might have hung him out the astronomy tower if she wasn’t, well, passed out.

 

“I don’t even remember that night, Potter,” Elsea replies. She’s hardly in the mood for rehashing memories, especially when Remus is sitting just next to James, with Mary MacDonald draped all over him like a really obnoxious and unnecessary shall. It’s like everyone is coupling off. Except her.

 

“You two snogged?” Mary asks, far too interested for her own good. She leans away from Remus and looks between them. “Does Lily know?”

 

“Merlin, _no_.” James shouts, shaking his head. “And she can’t know. You hear me, MacDonald?”

 

Mary just cackles. “We’ll negotiate terms later, Potter.”

 

James, looking distressed, just falls back into the grass. Elsea takes another hit and passes the spliff back to him.

 

“You need it more than I do,” Elsea says, smiling. James looks at it in his hand before passing it back, shaking his head.

 

“By the looks of your situation, I actually wouldn’t say that.”

 

Elsea frowns. “What do you mean?”

 

She doesn’t really need James Potter knowing her personal business. He may have been nice and all, but he really didn’t seem like the type to be able to keep his mouth shut. Especially to Remus, his actual best friend.

 

“Nothing. I’m gonna head up,” James mumbles before, climbing to his feet.

 

“I’m leaving!” he cries, as if it’s some grand announcement. “I have to check on Lily. Anyone willing to come?”

 

No one responds.

 

“Great! Fuck all of you in the most loving way possible.”

 

James flips everyone off before heading up the hill, leaving only Mary between Elsea and Remus. Elsea feels her pulse pick up as Remus’ eye flicker towards her. This time, she decides to address it.

 

“What?” Elsea challenges, smirking at Remus. “Do I look funny? Am I offending you? What is it, Lupin?”

 

She realizes she’s slurring a little at the same time she feels one of her fake eyelashes drooping into her pupils. “Screw these,” she says, exclusively to herself, ripping both off and flipping them into the wind.

 

“Rock n’ roll,” Mary comments. The fake blood on her face is nearly totally wiped off, and Elsea can’t help but notice most of it is on Remus’ shirt. _Gross_.

 

Remus cocks his head to get a better look at Elsea, smirking just as wickedly as she did before. “You’re type two drunk, aren’t you?”

 

“Type two?” Elsea has no idea what he’s talking about.

 

“It’s _your_ theory,” he says, chuckling. His eyes are a little drooped. “Fireball, whiskey drunk. Remember? Invincible and ready to fuck up lives.”

 

Elsea feels the air escape her lungs. She can’t believe he remembered she even said that stupid, random theory she made up on the spot. It had been nearly two weeks since then, since the _kiss_. She certainly doesn’t feel invincible, but she is one hundred percent ready to fuck up somebody’s life. Preferably Archie, right now, since he’s making Anya feel like such shit.

 

So she attempts to craft her face into something that resembles her usual Bitch Face, and says, “Are you offering up your life, Lupin?”

 

“No,” he says defensively. “I’m just simply making an observation.”

 

“Oh, well, congrats. You did a great job at observing!”

 

“Thanks! I know.”

 

Mary, who has been looking between the two of them with a knowing, amused look, sighs. “Since you’re not into sharing that,” she points to the spliff in Elsea’s fingers, now burning low, “I’m going to find another sharing buddy.”

 

She pushes herself off the ground and stumbles across the grass to where Sirius, Anya, and Peter are sitting. Without a word, she falls into Peter’s lap, throwing one arm around his neck and pulling his half smoked spliff from his mouth with her teeth.

 

Sirius looks elated.

 

“Look, you scared her away,” Elsea remarks, the alcohol making her head feel a little light.

 

“I don’t think anyone could scare Mary away,” Remus replies. He falls back onto his elbows and stares up at the half crescent moon. He sways a little, off balance, then relaxes.

 

“I think I did a good job scaring her at the quidditch match last weekend.” Elsea isn’t even sure why she says that. S _tupid_ , why would she bring that up? Too late now. Remus is right, she is Type Two.

 

“You think?” Remus asks, he looks slightly surprised. “Because if I remember correctly, you were the one running away in that awful coat.”

 

“Piss off.” Elsea takes a quick hit, blowing smoke directly into Remus’ face. “You don’t get to call that coat ugly. You don’t have the _right_.”

 

“I have every right, it was offensive to the eyes.”

 

“You sure you could even see correctly? With those eye bags of yours?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Because they’re under my eyes, Einstein.”

 

“Don’t call _me_ Einstein, look at your hair.”

 

“Look at _yours_.”

 

“My hair is gorgeous, thank you very much.”

 

“Yeah, on most days,” Remus shrugs, “a bit witchy right now.”

 

“Well, I know this might come as a shock to you, but I _am_ a witch.”

 

Remus mock gasps. “Since when?”

 

Elsea reaches over and pushes her finger into his shoulder, which makes him topple over into the grass. She giggles. “Someone is _drunk._ ”

 

“Actually, thanks to you and your friends, someone is drunk and stoned.”

 

“Brilliant.”

 

Remus shrugs. Elsea looks away, noticing that the crowd has thinned a bit. Archie and Hadley are still casually snogging next to her, but Jason and Fernando are nowhere to be seen. “Where’s Pete?” Remus asks, calling over to Sirius, who is trying to talk to a frowning Anya.

 

“Left with Mary,” Sirius’ displeased look turns into a full on grin, “I know.”

 

Remus nods approvingly. “Well done.”

 

Elsea scowls.

 

He looks over at her. “What?”

 

“Nothing,” she says through gritted teeth. He doesn’t get upset when Mary leaves to hook up with Peter? Even when he spent the entire night flirting and rubbing up against her? What is he, a sociopath? Remus is so confusing, she thinks. It makes her head hurt, worse than this high does. She doesn’t understand a single thing about Remus.

 

But if he’s happy to see Peter and Mary hooking up, that could mean he’s actually not interested in Mary. That maybe he’d been using her all night, well, to…

 

Lady-trap Elsea?

 

Her fingers twitch against her sides as Anya stands up.

 

“I’m going to bed,” she declares. Her eyes dart to Elsea, then Archie. “Goodnight.”

 

Archie detaches his mouth from Hadley’s for a moment to look at Anya. His lips are actually swollen and the other sideburn is hanging half off his face. Elsea wants to rip it off, but she’s too comfortable laying on the grass. “I’ll walk back with you.”

 

Anya’s face instantly brightens. “Really?”

 

“Yeah,” Archie nods, “come on Hadley.”

 

Anya’s face instantly falls. Elsea, who is having trouble keep track of all their movement, nods lazily. Sirius stands up, quick to follow Anya, and the four of them meander up the grounds towards the castle.

 

It’s soon that Elsea realizes it’s just her and Remus sitting by the lake, with a burning spliff between the two of them. Without thinking, she takes another hit and passes it to him. He takes it, looking around.

 

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move to get up. Maybe he’s tired, too dizzy to move? Or maybe he’s just completely out of it? Doesn’t notice everyone is gone? Doesn’t realize it’s just her, and him? Or maybe…

 

Maybe he wants it to be the two of them.

 

Elsea’s stomach lurches as she takes the spliff back for another hit. And another, and another. It is beginning to disappear, growing short and hot in her fingertips, but she can’t find it in herself to care.

 

“Didn’t we have a rotation going?” Remus asks, staring at the Elsea’s mouth.

 

“We did when there were people here, besides us,” Elsea explains after a slow drag. “But I have no respect for you, so.”

 

“Ah,” Remus notes. He doesn’t look too upset about it, he even has the tiniest hint of a smile on his face. “Right.”

 

“Sorry not sor-” Just as Elsea is about to complete her favorite bitchy cliche, a mound of untapped sweltering ash falls onto the palm of her hand. “ _-Shit_.”

 

It burns terribly even when she wipes it away and lays it on the cool grass. “Fuck, shit, _ouch_. Who the fuck did this belong to?” she curses. “Fuck!”

 

Remus, eyebrows raised in surprise and interest, attempts a serious look. “Uh, I think that was Jason--”

 

Elsea, however, is still swearing and staring at her hand. There’s a tiny red gash, hot and white in the middle with tiny black specks. It hurts like hell. “Fuck.”

 

“Here, let me.”

 

“No, don’t,” Elsea says quickly, although she’s not really sure what she means. She just doesn’t need Remus tending to her wounds like she’s some sort of damsel in distress. She’s Elsea Holmes, after all, she saves herself. Well, except maybe the occasional insinuation of him carrying her...

 

“Stop being a hero and just let me see,” Remus says tiredly. He’s sitting up and leaning towards her.

 

“Why?”

 

“So I can see if I can do something? Stop being difficult.”

 

“Fine.” But instead of letting him come to her, Elsea crawls the few spaces over to him, extending her palm. He’s sitting on the ground, legs outstretched in front of him, and she kneels at his side. “Well?”

 

“This sort of skill takes time,” Remus says, quietly. He takes her hand in his, and for a second Elsea swore she could feel warmth spread through her entire body, shooting up her arm and causing a blush to creep up her cheeks. His fingers are rougher than she expected, less gentle than Remus Lupin appeared to be.

 

“Looking isn’t a skill,” Elsea says after a while. Remus looks up from her hand to her face, and it’s then she notices how close they are. She feels her heart race. Her breath even catches, which is, totally lame. But she doesn’t care. She’s this close to him again. It’s exhilarating. They haven’t been this close since _the kiss_.

 

“It’s just a flesh wound,” Remus says. His voice is low and gruff. “I could heal it.”

 

Elsea blinks. This is it. “Thanks doc.”

 

_So we’re playing cliches_ , she thinks, _the ol’ kiss-it-better trick._

 

“No problem.”

 

But Remus doesn’t take out his wand. He’s just staring up into her eyes with cold, serious intention. He’s not moving. But he’s not making some sarcastic or cruel comment to usher her away. He’s just allowing whatever happen, to happen.

 

Elsea seizes the opportunity and leans forward, pressing her lips against his.

 

He doesn’t resist at all this time. Rather, he surges forward, kissing her passionately and pressing her softly back into the grass.

 

Things don’t stay delicate for much longer. Elsea pulls him closer, wanting to feel his body pressed up against hers. She winds her arms around his neck and entangles her fingers into the nape of his hair, ignoring the sting on her palm as it dulls into numbness and urging him closer and closer.

 

She can barely think, let alone plan what to do. Elsea just kisses him, weeks, better yet, _months_ of tension and attraction and _want_ pouring out of her. Remus seems to be in the same, running his hands along her hips and up her waist. She wants him to touch her, she wants him to keep going.

 

His mouth moves with hers and his hands slide underneath her coat, feeling her bare skin. His thumbs rub up her stomach until they’re poised just underneath her top. In anticipation, Elsea lets out a soft, girlish gasp.

 

Remus freezes.

 

“No,” he says, his lips brushing against hers as he speaks. “oh, fuck, I’m an _idiot_.”

 

He pulls away suddenly, his body leaving her’s and taking the warmth with him. Elsea feels strangely naked laying on her back, so she inches up to her elbows. Her head is spinning, maybe from the alcohol or from the leftover feelings of his body against hers. Everything is disoriented.

 

“What’d you say?” she asks, just incase she hadn’t heard him right. And she really, really, hopes that’s the case.

 

“Elsea, I…” Remus trails off, burying his face in his hands and sighing. “I didn’t mean that. I shouldn’t have done that.”

 

At that, she feels something she’s unfamiliar with course through her. It makes her eyes sting.

 

“Why not?” Elsea responds, voice quivering. “Because it sure as hell felt like you did.”

 

“Well I didn’t,” Remus snaps, looking up at her. His eyes are terribly bloodshot, and his hair is a mess. Her red lipstick is all over his mouth. Worse than before. Elsea suddenly realizes how tired he looks. No, not just tired. Exhausted. Sick.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine. Listen, just go. We can pretend this never happened.”

 

Elsea feels her breath pick up, the sting in her eyes grow to a prickling, watering sensation. She can’t cry now, that’s so stupid. She closes her eyes and swallows.

 

“I don’t want to pretend this never happened,” Elsea says, fingers trembling at her sides. “Why do you keep doing this? Don’t you… you know?”

 

“Don’t I what?”

 

“Like me?”

 

Remus doesn’t have an answer for her. “I’ll walk you back to the castle,” he says, voice hollow as he reaches his hand out to her. “But then I’m going to go. Come on.”

 

“No!” Elsea cries, swatting away his outstretched hand. “No! Don’t you fucking dismiss this!”

 

Remus blinks at her. “ _What_?”

 

“Don’t just walk away like last time!” Elsea feels her voice rising, shaking, but rising. She’s on the verge of tears and she feels so sick. Like she could vomit at any moment.

 

“Like last time?” Remus repeats, as if he’s surprised that it ever happened before. “Elsea,” he says her name like it’s a chore, like it’s exhausting to even think about her. “Just get up.”

 

“No,” Elsea protests. “No. You don’t get to leave like this again. It’s not fair.”

 

Remus hesitates, but steps a little bit closer. He leans forward, trying to look her in the eyes. Elsea turns away so he doesn’t see her face. She’s sure, if he looks closely, she’ll start crying for real.

 

“Stop looking at me if you’re just gonna pull the same disappearing act again,” Elsea says. Her voice cracks and it’s ugly. God, she feels so ugly.

 

“I’m sorry,” Remus mumbles. “But we should go.”

 

“Well…” It’s then that Elsea feels herself lose it. “Well why would you kiss me? Why do you keep kissing me if we have to go? _”_

 

Remus freezes again. “You kissed me!”

 

“Well you kissed me back! For the second time, I might add!” Her voice is raw and there are tears starting to fall down her cheeks. “Stop kissing me if this is all such a hideous, disgusting mistake to you!”

 

“It’s not,” Remus shouts back, but then he instantly recoils. “I really wish I could. I honestly wish I could…”

 

“Could what? What’s wrong? What is your problem?” Elsea starts to stand up. Remus offers his hand again but she knocks it away.

 

Remus opens his mouth to respond, but says nothing. He averts his eyes, looking towards the castle again.

 

“Great,” she scoffs, “just stay silent. That’s just wonderful. You’re being so helpful. You just keep yourself all guarded, brilliant. That’s how you impress a lady.”

 

He frowns, turning to look at her with an icy glare. Elsea’s tear stained cheeks are no match for him.

 

“Just admit you like me!” Elsea shouts. “Just fucking admit it already! You like me, and you’re scared. You want me, and you’re scared. You’re being a bloody coward! You keep all these secrets tight to your chest and--”

 

“Like you can even say that to me,” Remus fumes, “Like you don’t have anything you’d like to keep to yourself.”

 

“I’m open and honest with you all the time,” Elsea says, she isn’t even sure what he’s referring to. “I’m me, with you, 100% of the time. You’re stiff and closed off and then you’re warm and friendly and _flirty_ and nice and then you go on and flip like a switch back to the arsehole who shuts me out!”

 

“See? You’re lying to me right now.” Remus laughs coldly. “Honest with me the whole time. That’s laughable. You know what? One day everything is just gonna blow up for you. One day everyone is going to know who you really are, and who you really stand for, and then you’ll fucking understand.”

 

“Everyone already knows who I am,” Elsea spits, leaning forward. She has no idea what he’s even saying. “I’m not afraid of who I am. I let myself feel things. They know what to expect from me. But you? You’re literally a zombie, inside and out. You don’t feel things, you bottle it up and you pretend it doesn't exist. Do you realize how ineffective that is?”

 

“ _Elsea_ ,” Remus says, his voice almost terrifyingly calm.

 

“ _What?”_

 

“I know who you are. I know you’re the High Roller.”

 

The air grows colder, freezing around them.

 

“Alright? So don’t fucking prattle on to me about being _honest_.”

 

And then Elsea’s entire world crashes.

 

“ _What?”_ she hisses. “No.” She panics, her heart beat racing again. “I’m not, you’re crazy, I’m-”

 

“Don’t pretend,” Remus shakes his head, “don’t try to lie to me anymore.”

 

Elsea stares at him, her mouth agape. If she wasn’t crying before, she’s crying now.

 

With that, he turns around and starts heading back up the hill. Elsea watches him, her body suddenly seizing up with anger. She start to shake, feeling like the burning end of the spliff, ready to explode.

 

“Fuck you, Remus!” she cries, eyes spilling hot tears down her cheeks. “Fuck you!”

 

He doesn’t turn around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BUM. BUM. BUUUUUUUUM.
> 
> Well, that was the end of the /sort of/ part 1 of High Rollers. We've got it planned into three sections, and we're finally moving mooooving on. Thoughts on this wild ride of a chapter? What did you think of Remus' pissbaby attitude? Is he in the right? Does he make sense? Is Elsea coming on too strong? Do you have any favorite side characters?
> 
> And the big reveal? DON'T YOU HATE DRUNKEN FIGHTS? God, they're so much worse and everyone cries. I cry at least. 
> 
> ANYWAY. LET US KNOW!!!
> 
> P.S. you can see what we sort of think our characters look like at wizardweed.tumblr.com/highrollers!


	14. Cherry Bomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Listen to me,” Anya says, glaring. “Remus Lupin is an asshat. But he’s the one losing out, okay? You are not going to spend your entire day moping over him and getting high. You are Elsea Holmes, not some lovesick stoner girl who wears men’s jumpers with bloody buffalo wing sauce stains on it. Now let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 14!!! Can you believe we've come this far? I'm annoyingly proud of Jordan and myself and I just can't wait for things to start picking up again. We have a ways to go but there are a lot of fun things ahead!!! Enjoy!!!

The familiar, methodical gurgling sound of Elsea’s brand new bong, the present from Archie, steadies her from the awful pounding in her head. It’s been two days and the hangover from Saturday’s Halloween party has done little more than dull. Or it could be the depression Elsea’s fallen into, that’s doing that. She doesn’t feel any better, she just feels _less_.

 

“Good, yeah, take a nice inhale,” Archie coaxes, sitting across from her on the dingy floor of the Ravenclaw boys seventh year dormitory. It’s Monday afternoon, Elsea and Archie had decided to skip all their lessons and so far spent the majority of the day sleeping and getting high in their deserted dormitories. “Clear it.”

 

Elsea glances up through her oversized sunglasses. “I don’t feel better.”

 

“Tell me when it kicks in.”

 

She nods, pushing the bong away and leaning her back against Archie’s bed. Drowning in one of his oversized jumpers, Elsea practically melts into the floor and the pile of blankets he’d assembled for her.

 

The bubbling sounds of Archie taking a hit fade into the background as Elsea glares lazily at the wall.

 

Anya is going to be more than peeved when she gets out of lessons and finds them stoned off their arses on the floor. But Elsea can’t bring herself to care much.

 

“So,” Archie clicks his tongue, settling back against Webb’s bed, “what are we going to do about, you know, the thing.”

 

Elsea fixes Archie with a half-assed glare.

 

“We aren’t going to do anything. _My_ life is over,” she says. “I’m going to drop out of Hogwarts and move in with _Stan_ and _Paisley_ and start a hemp farm or something.”

 

Archie just nods. “Sounds fun. Don’t suppose I’m invited over?”

 

“Archie this is serious.”

 

“Or is it?” Archie says, his eyes so bloodshot it barely looks white. “Because I don’t think it _really_ is.”

 

Elsea slides her sunglasses down her nose, giving him her best _are you an idiot_ look before closing her eyes and promptly sliding them back up.

 

“Listen, I know you’re not gonna take this seriously for dramatic effect and all,” Archie says, “but don’t you think that if Remus was looking to turn you in he would’ve done it right away?”

 

“Not necessarily,” Elsea explains. “I know Remus. He’s really dramatic; he could’ve been anticipating that whole confrontation all night. Bastard.”

 

Elsea pauses, rolling onto her side. “I hate Remus Lupin. He ruins everything.”

 

From the corner of her eye, Elsea can see Archie nodding his head. “I agree. He’s a wanker, I’ll drown him.”

 

 _Drown him_. Elsea remembers the time Remus told her that stupid story about him on the boat, getting pulled into a lake and dragged by an oversized fish. She wonders if any of it were true, just like if any of the signals he sent to her were true. Honestly, since the entire ordeal Elsea couldn’t find a place to put him anymore. Is he a liar? Is he an asshole? Is he covering up some big ugly secret? Maybe his balls _are_ lopsided. Elsea groans.

 

“Don’t do that,” she speaks into the sheets. “You have to tread carefully around him. He can turn us in just as quickly as it would take you to look at him funny.”

 

Archie sighs. “But I want to kick his arse, Els. He can’t speak if I yank out his-”

 

“Archie. _Relax_.”

 

“-with my _bare hands_ ,” he finishes. Elsea knows Archie is harmless. One of those “all bark and no bite” sorts. Off the quidditch fields, at least. Even so he’s not known for being particularly aggressive, he’s more of the great strategist type.

 

Elsea wishes he had a better plan than “get high as hell” for the current situation, though.

 

“Fine,” Archie shrugs, “but there’s no harm in, you know, asking him casually about _his life_.”

 

Elsea narrows her eyes. “Yeah, _okay_. Brilliant. Thanks Archie.”

 

“You know what,” Archie pushes himself up, strolling around Webb’s bed and placing his hands on the mattress, “I love you to bits, Holmes, but sometimes you just gotta trust me.”

 

Trusting Archie? Elsea barely trusts herself. Trust is not something that comes naturally. But she’s too high and too exhausted to worry anymore, because honestly, can things get any worse? So she just shrugs and reaches for the bong again. If she does trust anyone, it’s probably Archie. He might not have the best decision making abilities, but he’d never do anything that blatantly jeopardized her future.

 

Besides, his money could probably buy her out of any trouble.

 

“Arch I can’t with this,” Elsea says, holding the bong up to her mouth. She realizes then by the almost soft focus appearance of the room around her that she is most definitely high. “Just can’t.”

 

“Can’t? Or won’t?” Archie wriggles his eyebrows.

 

“What the fuck are you saying? And don’t do that with your face. It’s like your eyebrows just lift off your head and start wobbling around your body.”

 

She has to blink several times to get that image out of her head.

 

“Dunno, I’m really high. Did I tell you that I fucked Hadley? That _I_ hit _that_?” Archie says, blatantly fucking around with Webb’s sheets. He twists around the covers until they’re in a ball on the top of his bed.

 

“No,” Elsea says, she takes a hit with her finger up, urging Archie to hold his thought. “Was it good?”

 

She coughs several times, passing the bong back to Archie. “I don’t remember it that well, honestly. I think. She didn’t let me speak the whole time. I’m not sure if that’s her trying to be dominant or trying to pretend it’s someone else.”

 

 _Pretend it’s someone else, definitely._ Elsea thinks immediately.

 

“What are you doing?” she asks, noticing Archie settling onto Webb’s bed. “Don’t fuck with his shit.”

 

Archie just grins. “Just small little things. I like to make Webb’s life as tediously inconvenient as possible.”

 

“Tedious is a fantastic word,” Elsea says, letting it roll off of her tongue. She likes the way it tastes, the way it feels. It’s so much less tedious than its definition suggests. “ _Tedious_.”

 

Archie nods his head. “Yeah. It really is. Tee-dee-us.”

 

“Tedious.”

 

“Tedio-”

 

“-you have got to be kidding me.”

 

Elsea doesn’t understand how Anya did it, or always does it, but she managed to appear right between them holding the bong in her hand as if it were dirty laundry. She doesn’t just look upset; she looks furious. Beyond furious, like she might turn them both into Dumbledore and burn the entirety of the Hogwarts castle down to ashes.

 

“I can’t believe you guys. What are you? Children? Elsea, you missed potions. You left me with Point and Sirius. What is wrong with you? And Archie, how many times have you missed Care of Magical Creatures this year? You’re going to get held back.” Anya nearly growls. She’s so angry that her complexion is slightly red.

 

“Hey, she’s got a broken heart, Any,” Archie says. “Don’t you understand? Oh, and I don’t think I’m taking Care of Magical Creatures.”

 

Anya gives Archie a glare impressively similar to the _are you stupid_ look Elsea had given him earlier this afternoon. “Archie. You’re in Care of Magical Creatures. That’s your textbook, right there.”

 

Her longer, slender finger points at a brand new hardly opened textbook sitting next to Elsea’s bum on the floor. It has _Property of Archibald Blackwater III_ scribbled on the cover, making it completely unusable for future students.

 

“Would you look at that, guys.” Archie says, grinning. “I’m in Care of Magical Creatures.”

 

Elsea snorts, laughing shortly before Anya turns her attention to her. “Elsea, I can’t believe you’re letting a _boy_ stop you from going to lessons. Don’t you care about your academic achievements anymore? You’re not gonna be able to work in this world with the marks you’re getting. Hell, you’ll be lucky graduate.”

 

“It’s not just a boy,” Elsea denies quickly. “I just don’t want to see anyone right now. I’m still hungover.”

 

“No you’re not, you’re hiding out like a coward. I see through your sunglasses. And they’re fake.”

 

Elsea throws her oversized, very much so real, Chanel shades off her eyes, holding them up to Anya. “They’re not fake you _bitch_.”

 

Anya pointedly ignores her.

 

“Get up,” she orders, giving both of them a stringent, hawk-like gaze. “Get up, right now. Or I’ll go straight to Flitwick. Or Lily Evans. Whichever is worse. Up. Up. Up!”

 

Archie complies immediately, popping up off of Webb’s unkempt bed and coming to the middle of the room like an obedient lapdog. He adjusts his own jumper and looks sheepishly at Anya. “Yes, captain.”

 

Anya glares. “Don’t you have quidditch practice?” Elsea can barely believe how forceful Anya is being with him. And by the dreamy expression on Archie’s face, it can’t just be from the weed, he’s _enjoying_ it.

 

Archie’s eyes widen. “Oh fuck!”

 

“Aren’t you captain?” Elsea asks, giggling as she stands up and dusts off her trousers. “Are we in last place?”

 

“No,” Archie argues, then shakes his head. “Well, _yeah_. But that’s hardly my fault. Our squad is shit this year. Nothing I can do about it.”

 

“Go to practice, Archie,” Anya says, pointing her finger at him. “Now.”

 

He nods, scooping up his bag by the door and filing out of the room. Elsea is still giggling by the time Anya turns her attention back to her. She promptly shuts up.

 

“Listen to me,” Anya says, glaring. “Remus Lupin is an asshat. But he’s the one losing out, okay? You are not going to spend your entire day moping over him and getting high. You are Elsea Holmes, not some lovesick stoner girl who wears men’s jumpers with bloody buffalo wing sauce stains on it. Now let’s go.”

 

Elsea doesn’t even have a chance to blink by the time Anya grabs her hand and yanks her out of the room.

 

-.-

 

Remus thinks he’s broken something. Not physically, but, emotionally. For some reason, he literally can’t relax. He’s jumpy, interested, involved. All things typically not Remus Lupin. He feels like an alarm clock without a snooze button. James says it’s because he’s trying to distract himself from a bigger problem, but the others are too busy enjoying the rareness of his being mentally present to worry about the causes for such.

 

“Look at you,” Sirius says. They’re sitting in the common room, Sirius in an armchair and Remus mid-essay, on the floor. “You’re a working fiend. Want to write mine for me?”

 

“Uh,” Remus considers dryly, scrawling some useless transition sentence about Arithmancy. “No.”

 

“Dammit, thought I could take advantage of you.”

 

“Never.”

 

There’s a beat of silence in which Sirius taps his fingers loudly against the armchair. He’s moving his feet about, too, scrambling in his feet and just fidgeting in general. Remus knows he wants attention, he always gets antsy when he wants attention.

 

Remus looks up at him from his paper. “Just spit it out already.”

 

“Today is the day,” Sirius says without hesitation. “Today is the day I leave my mark on Hogwarts’s history.”

 

“You’re hunting the Giant Squid?”

 

“No, that’s next week.” Sirius says, waving his hand nonchalantly. “This week is the one where I, Sirius Black, take on the heroic challenge of catching the High Roller.”

 

Remus cringes at the term ‘catch the high roller.’ Sirius makes Elsea sound like she’s a wild animal in the Forbidden Forest somewhere, and momentarily, Remus can’t help but imagine her half entrapped in a butterfly net looking confused as hell. He cringes again, this time at the mental image, he’s not even ready to see her in his mind.

 

“Catch the High Roller, eh?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the essay. “Do you mean turning him or her into the proper authorities?”

 

He asks it with his voice level, but inside Remus is in total knots.

 

“No, don’t be ridiculous,” Sirius waves him off. “First of all. It’s a boy, we confirmed it was Archie Blackwater last week. _Keep up._ And secondly, why would I turn the High Roller in when I can get a piece of the action?”

 

“What?”

 

“Blackmail, Moony. Blackmail.”

 

“You want to get in on the drug dealing business? Are you being serious?”

 

“No, it’s not the _money_ I want, it’s the prestige.”

 

“And how will you get that?”

 

“By telling Anya that Archie Blackwater is the High Roller, and having her fall into my loving arms. The prestige will be, of course, her love and adoration.”

 

Remus laughs. “That’s not what that means.”

 

“Well it’s what I want it to mean,” Sirius argues. “And isn’t that what’s important?”

 

Remus snorts. He finishes his essay with a final, kick ass concluding sentence and starts to roll up his parchment. He doesn’t really have a response for Sirius at this point, so he stays content to chuckling to himself while Peter snores haphazardly in the armchair across from them.

 

They’d been at it since lessons got out at two. Peter had taken to a nap, Sirius to talking languidly about himself, and Remus to cranking out two weeks worth of homework. James of course was spending quality time with Lily, or rather, attempting to, since she’d been avoiding him since Saturday night’s party.

 

Apparently touching her boobs was a horribly embarrassing moment for her and, in result, she was running for the hills whenever he was in sight.

 

“You think it’ll work, right?” Sirius asks, tapping his toes now.

 

“That Anya will suddenly fall hopeless in love with you?” Remus asks rhetorically. “Because honestly, no. I think that she’s going to be offended that you’re accusing one of her best friends of being the Hogwarts drug lord.”

 

“Actually offended?”

 

“Actually offended, Sirius.”

 

Sirius frowns. “But it’s true.”

 

“Maybe,” Remus lies. He’s gotten quite good at that. “But it doesn’t mean that she’s gonna like it.”

 

From accusing Elsea Holmes of being a liar, he’s found himself to be the King of Lies, weaving them in and out of daily conversations and daily life. He’s found it amazing he’s been able to keep up with them for this long, and doesn’t want to chance his luck by slipping up. Archie is the High Roller. Not Elsea.

 

He wonders why he’s still so quick to hide her identity. Like he has some ingrained need to protect her, he doesn’t even understand it. But their last conversation didn’t exactly go swimmingly. In fact, she _might_ have told him to go fuck himself. Or rather, screamed at him.

 

Sirius stares at the red rug thoughtfully, his brow furrowed with pieces of black hair falling across his face. Then, he shakes his head.

 

“No, no,” he tells Remus. “I think it’ll work, we just have to present correctly.”

 

Remus’ head pops up. “I’m sorry did I just hear you say we?”

 

Sirius shrugs. “Yeah. _We_.”

 

“Oh no,” Remus says, shaking his head profusely. “No, no. No. No. _I’m_ not getting involved. Hell no. You guys go on without me, I was barely involved. Jason was more involved than me.”

 

“What’s wrong?” Sirius asks, smirking. “Sex with Elsea Holmes that bad?”

 

Remus’ face visibly pales. “I didn’t sleep with her.”

 

Sirius raises an eyebrow. “Wait, what? When we all left you by the lake, I just sort of thought, you know… you’ve been so chummy lately.”

 

“We’ve not been chummy.”

 

Sirius snorts. “You’ve been about as chummy as you can get, Moony. Your chummy is like, snippy arguments and angry flirting. Plus, you spent the entirety of the party on Saturday glaring at her from across the room. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

 

Honestly, Remus didn’t think he would have noticed. Sirius isn’t exactly the most observant of his friends.

 

“Well, we didn’t shag,” Remus argues. “We uh, well… never mind. It’s nothing.”

 

That hooked in Sirius more than anything else would. He leans forward, grabbing Remus’ collar, and yanking it. Remus springs backwards on his knees, nearly toppling into the coffee table. But he steadies and lands back on the floor.

 

“Cough it up, Lupin. Don’t think you can share the gory details with just Prongs.”

 

Remus frowns. Sirius looks down at him expectantly.

 

“I’m your best mate too, man.” Sirius looks a little upset, and suddenly Remus feels bad. He’s been sharing all his personal details with James for so long that he forgets that maybe Sirius might have valuable input as well.

 

So he tells Sirius everything, artfully cutting out any traces of the High Roller bits. He keeps it short and concise, a few sentences to wrap up the complicated relationship that he has with Elsea. He doesn’t want to endanger her with his werewolf like abilities, she wants him _terribly_ bad. They’ve snogged, twice. And he’s been an arse, twice.

 

“Okay.” Sirius whistles. “That was… _painful_.”

 

Remus nods. By now, Peter’s woken up and is listening with a sleepy expression on his face. Remus reckons he’s known some of that, but not all. “Yep.”

 

“You ever consider just hooking up with her? And not telling her that you’re, well, you know? A furry homicidal wolf puppy by full moon?”

 

“She’s too smart for that,” Remus says immediately, because yes, he’s entertained that thought probably a thousand times over. “I know she’d figure me out immediately. Besides, she doesn’t just want to hook up. She wants more.”

 

“Right.” Sirius says. “But would it be the worst thing? Her knowing? I mean, she seems to be pretty damn good at keeping a secret. Her best mate has been the High Roller this entire time and she’s not slipped up, I personally think that’s pretty bloody impressive. Then at least you can have a little honesty in your hook up.”

 

“Sirius,” Peter mutters groggily. “Willa.”

 

Remus sighs.

 

“What about her?” Sirius asks.

 

“That’s what happened last time Remus tried to be with a girl and pretend he’s not a werewolf. She turned out to be a racist.”

 

Sirius bites his lip. “Is that what being a wolf hating bigot is called? A racist? I feel like that’s the wrong term. It’s not like being a werewolf changes the color of your skin. Just, you know, your fur.”

 

“Not important,” Remus says, stomach back in twists. “And that’s exactly why, Pete.”

 

“But Elsea is probably not a wolf-racist. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.” Sirius says, “she might be afraid at first, but she’d be willing to learn. Understand. I mean, I can’t imagine a world where Elsea Holmes runs from something she doesn’t understand.”

 

“Yeah,” Peter says. “I’m sure she’d think it’s cool, actually.”

 

“I don’t know,” Remus shifts on the ground, suddenly uncomfortable. “I don’t see what’s so cool about it. Turning into a homicidal wolf on every full moon is kind of inconvenient.”

 

“Let her make that decision for herself, mate,” Peter shrugs, “you can’t live your life avoiding all romantic encounters because you think they’ll run for the hills. We didn’t.”

 

“You don’t want to shag me,” Remus points out.

 

“Who said that?” Sirius asks, smirking. “Maybe Elsea will have the same reaction we did. Desperately cram in five years of animagi study into two months. We could have a cute little bunny running around with us on full moons.”

 

“A bunny?” Peter snorts. “Try rabid mountain lion.”

 

“You think? Sirius muses. “I was thinking something that looks fierce but is a totally cuddle-bug.”

 

“Elsea wouldn’t do that. Besides, I might have already Killing Cursed that one in the foot,” Remus mutters, mostly to himself. No matter how open he is with Peter and Sirius, he can’t imagine telling them Elsea’s big secret. No matter how much she upsets him, how much she infuriates him. It’s not his secret to tell.

 

But why not? He should be dying to tell them. They’re his best mates, not Elsea. He should feel no reason to keep this from them. He could save Sirius the possibility of ruining his chances with Anya. Sirius could use this information to his advantage, approach Anya a more calculated, safe way. But instead, Remus can’t tell them.

 

-.-

 

Elsea has been hovering idly over Anya for what feels like hours now. She feels like a little girl running errands with her mom, being dragged from boring place to boring place, hearing boring people talk in monotone and listening on pointless conversations about laundry detergent and mothballs. They’d been to Future Healers Club, Anya’s random book club that Elsea only realized existed, and had dinner in the Great Hall. Now, they are sitting in the library at a table that receives high foot-traffic, nothing like Elsea’s favorite table in the Herbology section.

 

“Did you ever consider using Visine?” Anya says, roughly opening up her textbook. “Because you still look way too high to be in public right now. It’s ruining my rep, Elsea. I’m president of S.A.P.S.”

 

“You’re a sap,” Elsea responds, chomping her gum and staring at a particularly strange looking crack on the table. “And I’m wearing sunglasses.”

 

“Which is rude, by the way,” Anya replies, yanking a quill from her pocket. “You’re like a toddler when you’re high, you know. Do you need me to hold your hand?”

 

“Yeah,” Elsea chomps her gum louder, “That’d be nice.” She means it, too.

 

Anya just scoffs. “You’re impossible.”

 

“You’re killing my vibe.” Elsea leans over the expanse table, dragging a pen across the top of Anya’s parchment.

 

Anya lets out a loud whine, throwing her head down on the table. “ _Why._ Why’d you do that Elsea? That’s my pet peeve. You know it’s my pet peeve.”

 

Elsea giggles. This is the most fun she’s had all day.

 

“Ugh and it’s _pen_ ,” Anya says, looking stressed as she pulls out her wand to remove it. “Can you even remove pen with magic? Why are you even using pens that’s so _annoying_.”

 

“Because quills are even more annoying. Like, get with the 20th century, at least give us typewriters.”

 

“God,” Anya says. “You’re so high.”

 

Elsea rolls her eyes. “I’m not that high.”

 

The most annoying thing about being with Anya has always been, to Elsea, is that she has to constantly remind you of yourself. _You’re a mess, you’re high, and you’ve got a massive pimple on your chin_. Elsea knows Anya means well, but it’s annoying to be picked apart that way all the damn time.

 

In the distance, Elsea can see Sirius Black approaching. He’s strutting as usual, a possy of Peter and James behind him. Remus is missing, and Elsea feels a wave of relief at that because she is _not ready_. In fact, she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be ‘ready’ again. She might even ask Lily for a rounds-partner switch, thinking about it.

 

“Hey ladies,” Sirius says, sliding next to Anya and sitting way too close, as usual.

 

“Hi.” Anya says, keeping her eyes on her paper and scooting away, subconsciously.

 

Elsea sends him a half smile. They used to be friends, but now he’s on the other side. _His_ side.

 

“Nice shades, Holmes.”

 

“Thanks,” Elsea says, clipped. “They’re Chanel.”

 

James and Peter slip into the two other vacant seats. Peter sits closest to Elsea and gives her a reassuring smile. She just nods at him.

 

“I don’t know what that means,” Sirius pauses, looking around at his friends excitedly before landing his gaze back on Anya. “But I know something you don’t know, so I guess we can call it even.”

 

Elsea feels herself stiffen immediately. It couldn’t be.

 

“Very cool Sirius,” Anya says shortly, “but I’m writing an essay so how about you come around to brag about it later.”

 

“Is this your way of asking me out?” Sirius asks, earnestly.

 

Anya rolls her eyes. “ _No,_ Sirius. It was me trying to nicely tell you to please piss-”

 

“He knows who the High Roller is.” James cuts Anya off defensively. Elsea rolls her eyes, only because he’s such a Gryffindor. “That’s the secret.”

 

Sirius looks up at James with a pained expression. “Why’d you ruin the surprise?”

 

“Sorry.” James shrugs. He stares at Elsea, his expression unreadable. “Just got excited, is all. Surprises make me itch.” With that, he scratches at his arms.

 

Elsea sits on her hands, bouncing her knee incessantly. She doesn’t know what to do with herself anymore. Archie was right, they should’ve drowned Remus. Or at least gotten to him before he sold her out. Then she wouldn’t have had to take the brunt of being the High Roller in such a cruel, unusual way. Death by Sirius Black - _how_ _humiliating_.

 

Her stomach drops and she feels like vomiting.

 

Anya stares at Sirius, interested but wary. “Do you, now?”

 

“Yes,” Sirius says quickly. “We have proof and everything.”

 

Elsea feels her eyes water, she feels the sting of bile in the back of her throat. _Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god. This is the end_.

 

“You okay?” Peter asks her, quietly. He pulls out a little water bottle and hands it to her. “Here, have some.”

 

Elsea wonders why he’d offer _the High Roller_ water, but she takes it anyway, gulping it down.

 

“Cotton mouth?” Peter says lowly.

 

Elsea nods, confused, but willing to accept any kindness while she still can.

 

“Okay,” Anya says, placing her quill down. “Show me what you’ve got. You have ten minutes.”

 

“Alright.” Sirius stands up, clearing his throat presentation style. “I’ve been-”

 

“- _we’ve_ been.” Peter chimes in.

 

“Yes. _We’ve been_. We’ve been compiling evidence for months now, gaining more and more information on who this High Roller may be. We started out by identifying all of our dealers. With that we got Reid Webber, Annabeth Hadley and-”

 

“-I know this,” Anya says with a roll of her eyes. Elsea freezes, she knows that? How did she already know all the dealers but not pinpoint her as the High Roller? She’s almost a little offended. Did Anya not think her capable? “Get to the good part.”

 

Sirius falters for a minute, but continues. “Okay. Right. So we were able to narrow it down to a member of Ravenclaw because no other houses besides Slytherin would have the calculating prowess for such an operation. Also, all the dealers are Ravenclaw as well. So that’s a thing. Then we started making connections. Who is friends/acquaintances with all of these people? Who is a Ravenclaw? Who is comfortable with drugs? Who is constantly floating around the center of the community but has never been properly called out on it?”

 

Elsea almost whimpers.

 

“Okay,” Anya looks irritated now, “ _who_?”

 

Sirius smirks, looking from Elsea to Anya. The air seems to grow colder in the room.

 

“The answer, my friends, is Archibald Blackwater the Third.”

 

Elsea bursts out laughing. Anya looks _horrified_.

 

“What?” Sirius says. “What’s funny?”

 

“You think Archie could pull something like that off?” Elsea says, hysterical. “God, you’re so… you’re so _wrong_.”

 

“I’m not,” Sirius insists, blushing. “Anya, you see it, don’t you? All the evidence is here.”

 

Anya looks at Sirius coolly, shaking her head. “What evidence? Process of elimination? If you were to use that in the court of law the judge would _laugh_ at you. Where is Archie even receiving drugs? Can he even tend to plants? He doesn’t even take Herbology. Plus, he’d never do that.”

 

Elsea ignores the fact that Anya just described her and keeps laughing.

 

“We’ve seen him walking around with the dealers in a group, though,” Sirius argues, but a bit more tentatively now. “We saw him with all of them besides Webb. They were walking down a corridor at night.”

 

“See? Where was Webb?” Anya prattles on. “Probably doing something completely different because in case you haven’t noticed, it’s really not difficult to walk down a corridor with a bunch of fellow Ravenclaws considering that we all live in the same place.”

 

Elsea smiles, feeling close to normal for the first time in what feels like forever. “Weak case, Black,” she says. “Sorry.”

 

Sirius shakes his head in disbelief, as if he thought that what he knew was fact, as if Archie told him he were the High Roller himself. “No,” he fights. “You’re wrong still. It’s Archie, it has to be.”

 

“Sirius, with the way you put it, Elsea could be the High Roller.” Anya says. Elsea laughs again, resting her hand on her chin. She feels someone’s eyes on her but she refuses to look anywhere but patronizingly at Sirius.

 

“Okay, but Elsea is _not_ the High Roller because she’s your best friend,” Sirius argues. “She’d never do that.”

 

It’s Peter. He’s staring at her with wide eyes, relentlessly.

 

“So is Archie, Sirius,” Anya says. “Archie wouldn’t do anything Elsea wouldn’t do.”

 

“I’m better than Archie, but it’s true,” Elsea says, shrugging her shoulders in an attempt to look casual. She looks Peter through her sunglasses. She knows he knows she’s looking. It’s making her uncomfortable but she can’t back down now. “Look, Black, the High Roller isn’t Archie. End of discussion.”

 

She looks at James, who is laughing into his hand. Peter still won’t stop boring his eyes into her, but she promptly holds her breath and ignores him.

 

“I’m starving. Anyone want to sneak into the kitchens?” Peter suggests. Elsea feels her lungs fill with air again.

 

Sirius, who looks like he wants to push the subject further, frowns nervously. Anya glares at him before going back to scribbling down on her parchment.

 

“I’m game Wormtail,” James says, gathering himself. “Holmes?”

 

Elsea shakes her head frantically. “I’ve got some homework to do. I left my bag in my dorm. Oops. Silly me.”

 

Peter stares at her, a look of wonder and amazement on his face. One that reveals to Elsea that he too has just solved the ultimate puzzle. She’d been able to shift Sirius, Anya, and James’ beliefs that she might be the High Roller away. But not him.

 

She grabs her pack of gum off the table, the only thing she’d taken with when she’d followed Anya out of the dorms earlier that afternoon, and gives a half-hearted wave to the table. “Laters.”

 

“Don’t,” Anya says, grabbing her arm as she attempted to weasel past, “go smoke again, okay?”

 

Elsea forces what has to be a maniac-like smile. “No promises.”

 

With that, she hurries out of the library, down the corridor, until she hits a particularly deserted area of the castle. There, Elsea collapses to the floor, shaking with fear and nausea, as the closeness of that encounter finally hits her.

 

Her life may not have ended today, she thinks, but it could very well soon.

 

-.-

 

Remus used to cherish his alone time, but now he fears it. Walking alone from the common room to start his new shift (not permanent, but Alice Hackney agreed to it for “this week and this week only”) with Owen McNeilson.

 

Sitting on the stairs waiting for Owen reminded him of waiting for Elsea all those times. Especially the first time, when she was so late that it actually angered him. Later that night he would imply that she’s a slut for no reason, then she would forgive him because it seems like that’s what she always does.

 

Remus scratches his scruffy face. He decided to let it grow out a bit, after Halloween. He doesn’t know why. It’s only been a few days, though, and he knew that in the morning he might not feel the same way.

 

He hears footsteps of someone approaching, so Remus stands up and dusts his hands off on his robes. He’d worn his winter robes, because he knew the grounds would be bloody freezing out. Better to be prepared than asking Owen McNeilson for his coat, or something.

 

But instead of the beefcake Owen McNeilson, Remus is surprised to see the approaching form of Archie Blackwater.

 

It only takes him two seconds to process what’s happening before Archie shoves him against the wall.

 

He’s got his wand nearly out of his robes before Archie takes a half step back. “Save it, Lupin, I’m not going to hurt you.”

 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Remus spits out, but doesn’t bother pulling his wand all the way out. “What the fuck was that?”

 

Archie narrows his eyes. They’ve never really had a conversation before, and Remus doesn’t think he’s ever even seen him up close. Blackwater is annoyingly good looking, in the Sirius Black sort of way, except with shorter hair and more chiseled jawline. And blue eyes. He oozes confidence, arrogance, and money. Remus doesn’t like him on that alone to begin with.

 

“We need to have a little chat,” Archie says, folding his arms over his chest.

 

“Then chat,” Remus responds. “I’ve got to go on patrol any minute now.”

 

“That can wait. Besides,” Archie clicks his tongue, “I can be quick.”

 

Remus stares at him, waiting. “Okay? Then go?”

 

Archie clears his throat.

 

“I need your word,” He says. “I need to know as a fact that you can keep the secret.”

 

“What secret?” Remus asks. He’s figured it out, but he kind if wants to wind Archie up a bit.

 

“Don’t play stupid with me.” Archie says. He’s deadly serious. “It’s not funny. Elsea’s entire life is riding on this High Roller thing. I don’t know if you’re aware on just about how important it is to her, but I’m telling you now, if you tell one soul you’re ruining multiple lives.”

 

Remus nods, unsure exactly what to say. “I won’t. Tell anyone, that is.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because-”

 

“-Because,” Archie cuts him off, glaring so cruelly it reminds Remus of a character straight out of a comic book. “It’s none of your business. Understand?”

 

Remus scoffs. “Right.”

 

“Oh and, Elsea hasn’t slept well in days. I know I’m not her spokesperson, but whatever you said to her made her _believe_ that you’re going to be the one to screw this up. So I want you to apologize, to me, for her.”

 

Scowling, Remus shakes his head. “I’m not apologizing to you.”

 

“No, you’re apologizing to Elsea _through_ me.”

 

Remus raises his eyebrows in disbelief. How did this kid get into Ravenclaw?

 

“You really think that’s the way to handle it?” Remus asks. “Me telling you I’m sorry for what I did to tell Elsea? And poof, she’s immediately put at ease?”

 

Archie gives Remus a hard stare before backing down, taking a step back. “Well, at least I can _see_ that you’re sorry. I’ll tell her that whether you want me to me or not.”

 

Remus shrugs. “Fine, Blackwater. Do what you want. I’ve got to get going.”

 

He pushes past Archie, heading out into the corridor. Archie walks behind him silently, heading in the same direction but a few paces.

 

“I’m not following you by the way,” Archie calls. “Ravenclaw tower is just in this general direction, too.”

 

Archie can’t see it, but Remus rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us know your thoughts in the comments or shoot us a message on tumblr!


	15. Purple Haze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s something about Elsea you should know. You might already have figured it out already, but, hell, mate, you should know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to get back into the swing of things! Love!!!

Remus wishes he wasn’t so damn perky all the time. It’s not fair; it’s not even _human_. What sort of normal person insults the girl he has concealed emotions for, threatens to ruin her life, and still has a skip in his step? No one. It has to be abnormal behavior, he’s sure of it, because there is no bloody way he should be this decent of a mood. Not when he typically acts like a sulky, half-asleep troll who hasn’t had a snack in weeks.

 

Even Sirius has been acting quite cool and disconnected lately, at least, after his embarrassing episode with Anya. The one where he demanded Archie Blackwater was the High Roller and she demanded he leave her presence. She won’t even look at him now, nonetheless speak to him. Mary had told Remus that Sirius raised his hand three times in the last S.A.P.S. meeting, every single he question he asked being something Anya had already gone over multiple times. Anya ended up kicking him out, and it was the ugliest thing since the Bloody Baron showed his face during the second year Halloween feast. And Remus knows this is fact, seeing that Mary rarely cares to use hyperbole.

 

“Hey guys,” Remus says merrily, dropping his books loudly on their usual table in the library. “How was the Muggle Studies exam?”

 

James grunts, the bottom half of his face engulfed by his fist.

 

Peter shrugs. “I think I did fine.”

 

Sirius mumbles something that may or may not be extremely rude, so Remus ignores it.

 

“Full moon in two days,” Remus chirps, looking at the ceiling for reference. “Who’s excited?”

 

Silence.

 

“Only me?”

 

“Remus, I’m gonna piss in your fucking cereal,” Sirius snaps, eyes wide. “Take it down a notch, will ya’? At least try to coordinate your polarizing mood swings with _ours_.”

 

There it is.

 

“Sorry.” Remus retorts, shrugging. “Next time I’ll reflect on my own miserable life before approaching you guys in such horrible conditions. My bad.”

 

“Why are you in such high spirits anyway?” James asks, eyes lazily opened only half way. His textbooks aren’t even open, but there’s an empty bottle of ink flipped upside down on the table. “You’re the one with the chip on your shoulder. I’m supposed to be happy and flamboyant.”

 

Remus nods. It is a bit of a dramatic switch, perhaps too much of one. The entire balance of their group feels off with Sirius wallowing, James wallowing and Peter - well, he’s been perfectly normal. But the heart of the group lies within their respective roles - and the entire universe feels a bit off. It’s making Remus uneasy, and he doesn’t know how to fix it past falling into one of his usual emotional slums or trying to cheer everyone else up.

 

“I dunno, I can’t help it,” Remus admits. At that, no one responds once again.

 

He decides to distract himself, maybe do some thinking for once. He’d been quite fickle with his mind the past week or two, letting his thoughts bounce from wall to wall, never staying in one place long enough to manifest any real value. Remus supposes it’s a some sort of subconscious defense mechanism of his. Somewhere, wedged deep in the crevices of his brain, he knows Elsea is hiding. Waiting, perhaps, would be the better word, for him to stand still long enough to slip out and blitz him.

 

It’ll happen sooner or later, the same way it did with Willa. Later than that time, however, because the emotions had to wait for him to finish his rationalizing first. But sometime soon it _has_ to hit.

 

Because if it doesn’t, Remus really doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

 

He stops mentally in his tracks when he realizes what he’s been doing for the past five minutes.

 

Idiot. Staring, blithering _fool_. Willa Jones is sitting three tables down from him, across from June Lee, wearing her signature high ponytail and her reading glasses. Remus had seen her when he walked in, but hell, he didn’t have time to _register_ it. He just rushed to his friends, like a slap happy git and began spacing out recklessly. Now he’s an active participant in a very stressful game of eye-contact-chicken with his ex-girlfriend, all because he forgot to mind his eyes.

 

Willa narrows her glare, almost as if asking _what do you want?_ Remus shrugs, but doesn’t look away. He really hadn’t given Willa a cold hard look in a while. Staring at her is almost painful for him after their fallout. Not only because he felt a complicated bundle of love, attraction, sweltering disappointment, and hatred for her - but because she’s always waiting there, equipped with her own lethal gaze.

 

This time is no different than the others. Staring at Willa is like staring at the sun on cloudless day. She’s bright and lovely from his peripheral, but head on she’s a blinding ball of pent up fury.

 

But Remus isn’t ready to give up yet, his pride is already bruised and battered from Elsea. He doesn’t need more damage.

 

Then, for a minute, while he stares at her blue eyes through her thick-framed glasses, he feels a rush of terrible guilt.

 

She still doesn’t _know_ what she did. All she sees is a boy who slept with her and left her a few days later. If she had the slightest clue that he had been struggling with his identity as a werewolf, nonetheless as a teenage boy, she might’ve hated him less. Or at least hate him _differently_. Maybe hate him in a way that Remus doesn’t feel the need to justify.

 

Perhaps he should talk to her, talk to her for a just moment. Not tell her anything she doesn’t deserve to know, considering the fact that she doesn’t like Remus’ kind openly and blatantly, but at least apologize. Something. Anything.

 

James runs his quill over Remus’ ear, tickling it until he flails slightly and breaks the stare down. When he looks back at James, he feels himself breathing rapidly.

 

“You good?” James asks, amused.

 

Remus isn’t in the mood to discuss his constant repressed angst to his friends at the moment.

 

“Quidditch match coming up soon,” Remus decides to go with a drastic mood change, to lighten him and his friends up. “Suck Flytherin.”

 

At that, Sirius slams his fist on the table. “Okay, enough, little miss sunshine. I’m going to bed to drown myself in the eternal sorrows of heartbreak. You… take a lude, or something. Relax. I don’t like you like this anymore,” Sirius states, gathering his books and standing. “I’ve got to _do_ something with myself.”

 

Peter blinks lazily. “How about take a run?”

 

“No.” Sirius snaps. “I’ve got to do something bout _Anya_. I can’t think with you all clouding my space with your own problems. I need _me_ time.”

 

“Okay,” Peter says. “So try taking a run _alone_?”

 

“No, Peter. Just… _No_.”

 

That’s the last thing Sirius says before he quite literally storms out of the library, robes billowing behind him like he’s Severus Snape and all. James watches his retreating figure, an expression of awe on his face.

 

“Talk about girl problems,” Peter mutters. He’s been extremely high and mighty ever since Mary had chosen him to sleep after the Halloween party. They hadn’t heard the end of “Mary said this” and “Mary said that” yet. Meanwhile Remus is pretty sure Mary didn’t say much at all.

 

James expression quickly sours as he returns to his previous, pissy boy state.

 

“You wanna?” he challenges Peter, his voice uncharacteristically venomous. “Because mate, do I have girl problems for you.”

 

“Do you Prongsy?” Peter probes, looking from Remus to James. “I thought you got to second base without a problem?”

 

“I did,” James insists. “She’s just annoyed that I told you about it.”

 

“How does she even know that?” Remus asks.

 

James shakes his head angrily. “Fucking Mary. I thought she didn’t have any loyalty but I forgot she’s still a Gryffindor, when it comes down to it, so _of course_ she does. Anyway whilst I was making my way up under her shirt, she stopped me and said, ‘If you tell any of your mates about this, I’ll castrate you.’ I didn’t think it mattered, because none of you would tell her and she would never _actually_ castrate me, but now she won’t even speak to me, and I think that might be worse.”

 

“Have you tried apologizing?” Remus asks. James looks insulted enough to punch him in the mouth.

 

“Remus, no _shit_ I apologized. She locked me out of her room last night when I tried to talk to her. I waited outside for _three hours_ for her to come out and ended up falling asleep on the door. The only reason I got back to bed was because Alice Hackney tripped over me on her way to Franks. Bloody ridiculous.”

 

“That’s awful,” Remus says. He couldn’t imagine that kind of dedication, waiting on a doorstep until you pass out just to make things right with someone. That’s not something just anyone can do. “Maybe she just needs time?”

 

“Maybe. Probably. I don’t know. I feel like if I give her time she’s just gonna get more and more angry with me and see how shitty a boyfriend I’ve been since the start. Then she’ll break up with me and I’ll have to be single and miserable.”

 

James pauses, eyeing Peter and Remus warily.

 

“I’ll have to be like _you_ lot. Or worse, _Sirius_.”

 

Everyone at that table silently agrees that no one wants to be like Sirius.

 

“I think I’ll go and check on him,” James says, solemnly getting to his feet. “When I got back to the room last night I swear he was crying.”

 

“Really?” Peter says, shocked. “Crying?”

 

“Well, no.” James resigns, sighing. “But he didn’t look great for three in the morning. Bloodshot eyes and he looked so strung out. I mean, he wasn’t smoking and I know for a fact he’s not a coffee person. Dunno, mates, I think Sirius is really fucked up about this Anya thing.”

 

“Give him time,” Peter says. “He just needs to get over her. Find a new cute Ravenclaw to chase after.”

 

_Better not be Elsea_ , Remus finds himself thinking. Then he stops in his tracks again.

 

Before he manages to say anything else, James has stuffed his books into his bag and headed out the door.

 

Peter looks up at him. “He forgot his quill bottle.”

 

“It’s empty.” Remus picks it up. “I’ll go toss it in the bin.”

 

“Don’t get lost.”

 

He wanders through the library towards the front where the single rubbish bins sit. The library is a pristine wonderland; and Remus thinks that the matron probably curses anyone who tries to leave their rubbish anywhere. So he makes a show of looking her straight in the eye and dropping it into the appropriate bin.

 

She flashes him a warning look.

 

Even Remus Lupin, Prefect Extraordinaire, can’t impress everyone.

 

As he’s heading back, he once again makes awkward eye contact with Willa. She’s alone at her table now, tapping her pen against her textbook. She looks like she might want to say something to him, and then thinks better of it.

 

Remus makes a half-a-second decision and stops in front of her table.

 

“Hi Willa,” he says.

 

It’s the first words he’s said to her in over a year.

 

Her jaw drops momentarily before she stutters a small, barely audible, “Hi?”

 

“I, uh,” Remus starts, realizing that this is a lot more difficult than he originally imagined, and he originally imagined something exceptionally hard. “Hi.”

 

In the time that Remus seems to have lost his bearings, Willa collects herself.

 

“You already said that,” she says, but then she promptly shuts her mouth. They were never particularly good with banter; everything between them was more physical and hormonal. In fact, most of their conversations were either both of them speaking over each other or really short, nervous sentences. Sometimes they’d have entire conversations where they were each talking about their own thing, and not listening to the other person.

 

“Yeah I know,” Remus says. “I’m gonna sit now.”

 

Willa stares, waiting.

 

“Okay.” Remus breathes, wiping his suddenly sweaty palms on his trousers. He actually feels like his sixth year self again, sitting in front of her. Sweaty and small. “I came over here to apologize.”

 

He waits, watching Willa as she considers this with a blank, if not confused, expression.

 

“I’m not expecting you to, uh, well,” Remus pauses, scratching at the back of his neck, “ _accept_. I’m not expecting you to accept my apology, but I feel like I owe you one considering how open-ended I left everything.”

 

“Open-ended?” Willa rasps, leaning over the table. “You left me after I shared my first time with you. You know how special it was to me, Remus. _Open-ended_ is an understatement. It’s insulting.”

 

“I know, I know,” Remus concedes weakly. He really doesn’t have any excuse that she’d understand. “But I’m sorry I left. I was going through some crazy shit, honestly, Willa. Shit you couldn’t imagine.”

 

Willa’s briefly eyes fill up with wonder as she leans further over the table. It fades fast, though, and fills with annoyance again. He knows she thinks he’s just making excuses. Maybe he is. But he feels like he owes her this small apology, at least. “Like what?”

 

“Family problems, angst, I don’t want to get into it _now_ ,” Remus continues, voice sharp. She doesn’t deserve to know _that_ , and if she did, it wouldn’t make anything better. Plus, he knows Willa’s personality well enough to deduce that she’s more curious than concerned at this point.

 

“Okay.” Willa reclines. “Okay, I get it. Fine.”

 

“Okay?” Remus says. Now that it’s happened, he’s beginning to feel like the entire conversation that just occurred was completely pointless. “So you understand?”

 

Willa rolls her eyes.

 

It’s then he realizes that he’s probably apologizing to the wrong girl.

 

“You didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know, Remus,” she snaps, though it’s a bored sort of retort. “You left me, you had _issues_ , you won’t explain them. That’s just like you, and I can’t expect anything more.”

 

Remus opens his mouth to respond, but just then June Lee returns with a large stack of books. She eyes Remus warily, but he just nods and backs away.

 

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” he mumbles, pulling the chair out for June and returning to Peter’s table, who’d been watching the exchange with a frown.

 

As Remus settles into his seat, feeling a lot less happy than before, he suddenly feels the weight of all his pent-up-emotions release upon him.

 

“Holy shit,” Peter mumbles, “your face went from chipper sociopath to murderous psychopath. You alright?”

 

Remus doesn’t respond. He sighs, leans forward, and plants his face into an open textbook.

 

-.-

 

 

“Elsea Holmes,” Ricky Maddox says, annoyingly cheery, as he pulls out the empty seat next to Elsea, “do I have some news for you.”

 

“Do you now?” Her voice is bored and level, but she feels like utter shit. She’s got a mountain of coursework underneath her; all from the lessons she skipped on Monday alone. Two days later and she’s still not caught up.

 

But then again, why do lessons matter when she could be kicked out of school and sent to Azkaban any day now?

 

Maddox, now reclining in the Archie-Fucked-A-Girl-In-That-Chair seat, flashes an easy smile. “I do. Don’t you want to hear it?”

 

Elsea personally doubts any news, good or bad, will faze her at this point. She’s been a walking grey cloud. Drifting from place to place, class to class, casting a gloomy shadow wherever she appears. Archie and Anya both mentioned to her on separate occasions in the past week that she ought to lighten up, but she can’t. Not when Remus Lupin is out there, conspiring against her, torturing her and yet making her _like_ him at the same time.

 

She places her finger on the line she’d been reading in her charms textbook and sighs heavily. “Well, go on.”

 

“You’re going to be a millionaire.”

 

Elsea raises an eyebrow. “I am?”

 

“Yeah, you bloody well are!” his voice is far too loud for a library. And Elsea, who has been decently close mates with Maddox since third year, has never once seen him so enthusiastic. He’s typically the chilling in the shadows type. The bloke who has a sarcastic quip ready on a moments notice. Not the seeking her out in the library for news sort. “While you’ve been too baked for the last few days to actually notice, but the entire god damn castle is high too.”

 

“What?” she asks again, feeling idiotic. “Aren’t they always?”

 

“Not on your weed, babe.” Maddox looks giddy, like a kid in the candy shop. “On the ludes. The purple pills. The chill pills!”

 

Elsea snorts. “Don’t tell me Archie got you calling them that too.”

 

“But that’s what they are!” he insists, leaning forward so that some of his dreadlocks dangle onto the armrest of her chair. “Chill as fuck pills. I’ve been selling them like hotcakes. Haven’t got a single one left! I talked to Hadley earlier today and she said she ran out yesterday, and she tried to tell you about it but you just stared beyond her like you dropped acid, or something.”

 

Elsea doesn’t remember seeing Hadley the day before, but ignores that bit.

 

“You’re all out?” she gasps. “I gave you three bottles.”

 

“And some. I nicked a few off of Archie’s private supply to sell to Pettigrew. Dunno what he’s doing with all them, because he’s sure as hell not taking any.”

 

Elsea remembers Peter’s knowing gaze. Her stomach drops and she looks back down at her textbook. “How much did we make?”

 

“A small fortune,” he boasts. “And if you make another batch by this weekend, I bet we can raise the prices. People are _loving_ them. Drool and boners and all. I saw Owen McNeilson high as a bloody hippogriff in Care of Magical Creatures yesterday. Xavier kept trying to poke him with a stick and the bloke just laughed and laughed. It’s brilliant, Els. _You’re_ brilliant.”

 

“Great, thanks,” Elsea says, grinning. “I am quite brilliant, I guess.”

 

Maddox smiles, sinking further into the chair. “You can say that again.”

 

Elsea looks at Maddox and feels a switch of energy in her, something going awry. He _is_ attractive, smart, and loyal; he’s got really white teeth. He would do anything Elsea tells him to, most importantly. He would never run away from her if she tried to make out with him. No, he’d reciprocate her advances. He would step up to the pitch and be a man. He’d be _grateful._

 

“Maddox?” Elsea pushes. She hears her voice change do something low and seductive, which is something Remus has actually teased her about before, but ignores it.

 

He looks up at her, brows furrowed. “Yes?”

 

Elsea scoots her chair closer to him. This could be fun, better yet, this could be distracting. Something Anya constantly preached to her was “always go out with a bang,” and fooling around with Maddox for a bit would definitely count towards such.

 

“Wanna celebrate?” she asks, almost whispering. She drapes her fingers just over his thigh.

 

Maddox nods his head fervently. “Yes, obviously.”

 

Elsea smiles.

 

“I have a couple of rolled spliffs in my room,” Maddox suggests.

 

Elsea laughs, coiling her tiny hand around his muscular forearm. The moment she touches him, she can’t help but wonder why she hadn’t tried this earlier.

 

“Okay, or we can stay here,” Elsea says. She bites down her lip. If she’s going to do this at all, it’s gonna be hammed up to the highest extremes. Elsea is over hating herself; any bloke would be _lucky_ to have her interest. She’s fit as hell, brilliant, clever, a total catch. Maddox isn’t stupid.

 

So it’s then that his eyes widen a bit in realization, and his face oozes with adoration. He stares at her, a slight grin on his face.

 

“We could _definitely_ stay here,” he agrees.

 

At that, Elsea pounces. Archie had always said that if you can’t get to the Astronomy Tower, this is the place.

 

They snog for a good fifteen minutes. Elsea is pleased to find out that Maddox is a damn good kisser. She ends up in his lap, and he’s got his hands up the back of her blouse. He does something really nice with his tongue, and while Elsea enjoys the sport of snogging Maddox, she can’t help but note the utter lack of fireworks and sparks that are supposed to be shooting off in her tummy. His skin is lukewarm; she can’t really tug at his hair because it’s so tangled.

 

Kidding Maddox is just like kissing a really nice, responsive wall.

 

Elsea squeezes her eyes shut tighter, until she can make out a more desirable image in her head. When she can only think of Remus in the grass, or Remus in the corridor, she decides that she has to be the most pathetic human being on the planet.

 

He starts kissing her neck, after a while, sliding his hands underneath her bra strap when she loses her bearings, moaning softly, “Oh, _Remus_!”

 

He stops.

 

She stops.

 

“Holy shit!” Maddox cries out, staring at her with wide eyes. Elsea doesn’t know what to do. She feels horrified, confused. Did she just? Did he hear? Did she really?

 

Maddox bursts into laughter.

 

Elsea’s face heats, changing to a shade of red so bright it’s probably unknown to man. “Oh my god,” she groans, burying her face in her hands. She can’t even look.

 

Maddox continues laughing, sliding his hand out of her blouse. “Oh _Merlin_ , Holmes!” He cries out, shaking his head. “That was brilliant!”

 

Elsea can’t even look up at him. “That was _awful.”_

 

“ _Oh, Remus_!” Maddox mimics. “ _Oh Remus_!”

 

Elsea snaps, tearing herself from her self-pitying state to smack Maddox repeatedly until he stops. “Shut up!” she groans. “We’re in the fucking library, did you know? So stop moaning Remus’ name for Christ’s sake. You know those Marauders, they’re bloody everywhere!”

 

“That was sick, Holmes,” Maddox says, not even looking slightly enchanted by her anymore. Elsea is utterly defeated. “I can’t believe you pretended I was _Remus Lupin_. Come on, I’m way better looking than him.”

 

“Shut up,” Elsea says for what feels like the millionth time. She picks herself up off his lap, sauntering over to the table with her books on it. “I wasn’t pretending. It was a slip of the mouth, and maybe you should think of this as a reflection of yourself rather than making fun of me, huh?”

 

Maddox doesn’t reply, just laughs again, shaking his head. “You don’t need to get all defensive. Just think of this as two mates having a nice, proper snog.”

 

Elsea frowns at him, stuffing her things into her bag. “I’m not going to think anything of this, at all. You hear me? Don’t think about it. Don’t talk about it. Okay?”

 

Maddox holds his hands up in defeat, still smiling. “Alright, boss.”

 

With that, Elsea storms out of the library, feeling like she’s become the biggest mess on the planet. Remus Lupin is ruining her bloody life.

 

-.-

 

Remus, without realizing it, spends the entire day on some sort of marathon date with Peter.

 

After the library, in which they studied for nearly two hours, they made their way to dinner. Apparently neither of their other friends found it fit to eat when their romantic lives are in such turmoil, so they spent it alone. They chatted minutely over their meals, Peter mentioning only a few things about Mary but enough for Remus to deduce that he must be harboring a pretty large crush on her now. He’d feel worse for Peter if his ego weren’t currently inflated to such a large proportion.

 

After dinner they go back to the common room and play checkers, because they both know just about nothing when it comes to wizard’s chess.

 

Remus has almost all kings when Peter asks him about Elsea.

 

“How is that?” he asks, fumbling with the extra checkers pieces in his hands. “Have you spoken to her since?”

 

“Since what?” Remus clears his throat. “Your move.”

 

Peter jumps one of Remus’ pieces. “Since Halloween, obviously. Did you apologize or anything?”

 

Remus stares at the board blankly, momentarily forgetting how to play.

 

“Moony?”

 

“No,” Remus says, moving an irrelevant piece to an irrelevant spot. “I haven’t even seen her.”

 

“Really?” Peter sounds surprised. “I thought you had potions together. And like, three other lessons.”

 

“She hasn’t been at any.”

 

Peter nods, something about it is a bit too judgmental and it makes Remus want to slap him across his high and mighty face.

 

“I saw her the other day,” Peter says after an awkwardly still pause. “In the library. She was wearing sunglasses indoors, and at night, if you know what I mean.”

 

“Not surprising,” Remus muses, watching as Peter kings yet another one of his pieces. His mind is whirling with Elsea Holmes; thinking about Halloween again. Halloween, when he’d kissed her back into the grass and wanted so badly to go further. Halloween, when he quite literally ditched her out in the cold and said some not-so-nice things. Halloween.

 

“She was a mess, which we both know is unusual for her.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“Remus.”

 

He looks up.

 

Peter has stopped playing. He looks serious. The common room is nearly empty, save for a few second years across the room doing a bit of studying.

 

“What?”

 

“There’s something about Elsea you should know. You might already have figured it out already, but, hell, mate, you should know.”

 

Peter bites down on his bottom lip and shakes his head. Remus isn’t really sure what’s coming. Is there another secret about Elsea Holmes he’s yet to uncover? Does he even want to know? Maybe she’s a werewolf too.

 

Remus almost laughs at that. Wouldn’t that be something?

 

“What is it?” he asks, not ready to betray Elsea’s secret willingly, thinking of Archie Blackwater’s warning the other night.

 

“Elsea is, the, well, I don’t really know how to say it,” he shakes his head, “I mean, I don’t know for sure. But I put the pieces together. Anya just laid it all out and everyone just didn’t agree, but you know, she’s---”

 

“Spit it out, Pete.”

 

“Right.” He nods. “Okay, well, I reckon Elsea is the High Roller.”

 

Remus makes a noise. It startles not only Peter, but himself as well. Peter isn’t exactly the group genius. The fact that he was able to sort it out before anyone else on his own, without overhearing or spying, is impressive. Peter won.

 

“Remus?” Peter prods sheepishly. “You okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Remus replies. “And yes, I know. I overheard her and Webb talking about it that night we were sitting around trying to figure it out in the corridor. When Sirius decided the High Roller was _Archie Blackwater_.”

 

Peter nods. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

 

Remus swallows hard. He’s been dreading this question incase it ever came up.

 

“I don’t know,” Remus says hoarsely. “I honestly have no clue. But I still don’t plan on saying anything, you know? It’s not my secret, and it’s really… important. If it gets out people can get hurt.”

 

“Elsea can get hurt,” Peter corrects quickly. “You didn’t tell us because you care about Elsea.”

 

Remus doesn’t respond right away, just looks down at his twitching hands. “I um,” he tries to argue. He _wants_ to argue. But there’s not use. Not anymore. “Yeah, I reckon I do.”

 

He realizes that saying it out loud isn’t entirely different than thinking about it over and over and over again.

 

Peter smiles, suddenly forgetting the seriousness of their conversation. “You fancy Elsea Holmes. You want to kiss her, shag her, you want to marry her and have her adorable little blonde babies. Remus Lupin, you _love_ her.”

 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he replies, stiffly. “Don’t be such a--” but his words fall short, because Peter is leaning back in his chair, cackling.

 

“I’m only teasing,” he says, still laughing. “Get a grip, mate. You’re a bloody mess over her.”

 

Remus just frowns. That’s only half of it.

 

-.-

 

Elsea feels like a complete knob waiting outside Professor McGonagall's office. She doesn’t do extra help, or extra hours. She doesn’t even do detention on the rare occasion in which she would receive it. However, if she knows that there is some place Lily Evans can be spotted outside of the library, it’s here.

 

And from the sounds of her ranting and raving from the other side of the door, Elsea can tell that she’s about to have about as unpleasant of a conversation with Lily as it can get it.

 

Of course, she could just walk away. Even though it would mean that:

 

1) She’s going to get stuck doing patrol with Remus on Friday.

 

2) She’s going to never, ever, ever, get Remus Lupin out of her bloody head. She will forever be shouting his name while in bed with other men, no matter how hot, smart, clever, or perfect they are.

 

Elsea has to purge him. He’s an unsolved puzzle, _a problem_ , and as far as she can tell, she’s never going to figure him out. So what else is there to do than incinerate everything? He’s got to go. And this is where it starts: inconveniently, miserably, and ironically, at the pretentious hands of Lily Evans. The one person that Elsea is sure has no soul.

 

However, soul or no soul, Elsea doubts that she won’t succeed at what she’s about to do. Lily has made it clearer than day that she wants Elsea far away from her and her group of friends. Separating the Elsea/Remus duo would probably be a justice to society, in Lily’s eyes.

 

The door swings open.

 

“Oh hi?” Lily says, her usual ‘better than thou’ expression plastered on her face as she marches out of the doorway. “Do you need something? Because McGonagall is finished for the evening.”

 

“Yes,” Elsea announces, taking a step closer to Lily. “But from you. Not Gons.”

 

“Gons?” Lily presses, her face growing sour with distaste. “Is that what you call her?”

 

“I guess. I don’t know. It’s irrelevant, honestly.” Elsea didn’t walk over to Lily with the intention of having a bitchy back in forth. And frankly, she’s not in the mood. “I need to speak to you, prefect to head girl.”

 

Lily raises her brows, caught stunned only momentarily before composing herself to her full, all-business demeanor. “Oh?” she asks, folding her arms suspiciously. “What about?”

 

Elsea sighs, willing herself to look Lily in the eye when she speaks. This is important; she needs to be taken seriously in order to pull this off. Framing is everything. All it would take is for her to slip up one word, one phrase, and it becomes childish, and silly, and all the things Elsea repeatedly keeps telling herself its not.

 

“I need to switch patrols,” Elsea says, expression hard, doing her best to look determined and sure of herself. She _wants_ this. “Before next week. That’s all.”

 

Lily nods, almost understandingly, before smirking. “Why? Do your duties as a prefect conflict with your stoner drive to do absolutely nothing on a Friday evening?”

 

Oh.

 

Elsea holds back, allowing only the corner of her mouth to flinch upwards in a momentary challenging smile.

 

“Aw, I thought we were civil now, Lil?” Elsea coos. “Because if not, fine. Do your duties as Head Girl conflict with your megalomania? Or compliment it?”

 

Lily frowns. “Did you come and find me just to trade insults?”

 

Elsea narrows her eyes. “You started it.”

 

“Okay, _fine_.” Lily crosses her arms over her chest. “But really. I can’t just switch patrol shifts without a viable reason. If you have a serious complaint, I will listen and look into it. But we have to attempt to fix the problem first, not just adjust your schedule.”

 

Elsea groans. “It just doesn’t fit my life anymore, okay.”

 

“So your stoner drive to do nothing _is_ conflicting. Brilliant.”

 

“No,” Elsea snaps. “I have… _problems._ Actual, real problems with my patrol partners.”

 

“Partners plural, or just one?” Lily’s mouth twists into a smirk. “Because last time I checked, you and June Lee got along just swell.”

 

“It’s not June.” Elsea feels Lily’s pride growing and growing. She doesn’t want to give the redhead satisfaction by just telling her, but bloody hell, she might not have a choice.

 

“Well I must say, I am lost. I can’t seem to see an _actual, real_ problem. Remus is a lovely boy.”

 

Elsea can’t help but think Lily speaks like a grandmum.

 

“Fine.” Elsea narrows her eyes and glares. “Remus and I had a row, and things are horrible and awkward and I would rather not put myself in that sort of situation when it can be easily avoided.”

 

There is a pause. Lily breaks it by clucking her tongue.

 

“Elsea,” she says, not even a trace of a laugh in her cold glare. “Do I look like an idiot to you?”

 

As much as Elsea wants to just say: _yes, you do_ ; she holds back. Lily needs to be her side for this, no matter how difficult that particular task is.

 

“Please try to understand,” Elsea pleads. Immediately she knows she stepped in the wrong territory by the astounded expression on Lily’s face, but she continues. “I really can’t even stand to look at Remus and-”

 

“ _Do you think_ ,” Lily starts, looking awfully serious and a bit crazy, “you’re the only one with boy problems?”

 

Elsea opens her mouth to speak, but Lily cuts her off.

 

“Do you think you’re the only one who is trying to avoid a certain male species?”

 

Once again, Elsea wants to reply, but Lily continues.

 

“Do you think that you’re the only girl who wishes she could _SWITCH HER BLOODY PATROL SHIFTS BECAUSE HER BOYFRIEND IS BEING A PRICK_?”

 

Then, Lily Evans quite literally bursts into tears.

 

“Um,” says Elsea. She can’t believe how quickly things escalated. “Remus is actually not my boyfriend, but if you would just please-”

 

“Who do you think you are?” Lily asks, choking on her tears. “Do you think that just because you _ask_ , all your problems will disappear? Do you think that just ridding Remus as your patrol partner will rid him from you life? Because _that_ , let me tell you-”

 

Lily pauses, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

 

“-does nothing, Elsea. Boys just barge in and never leave.”

 

Elsea taps her foot, severely uncomfortable as Lily folds her arms and continues to cry in front of her. If they were friends, it would be easy. She could console her, ask what stupid thing James did, and probably get that all important shift change she needs. Alas, that’s not the case.

 

After about three minutes of awkward standing, Lily lets out a loud, air clearing, sigh.

 

“The answer is no,” she tells Elsea, slowly morphing back into her cold self.

 

Elsea doesn’t respond, transfixed on the absolute sideshow Lily has become. Not even Anya, who runs through emotions like Archie does women, ever behaved as erratically as that. For a brief moment, Elsea struggles between whom to pity more: James or Lily.

 

“Sorry,” Lily continues again, “you shouldn’t have seen that. I just… _men_.”

 

Whatever James and Lily are going through, well, Elsea wants no part of it. She frowns at Lily and turns around on her heel and stomps away. There is already enough on her plate.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TELL US WHAT YOU THINK!!!!


	16. Bad Moon Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Freeze, motherfuckers,” Elsea says, kicking open the door the rest of the way and standing in her best Starsky and Hutch pose. “Put your hands down and step away from the back cabinet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Life got quite busy for the two of us. But we're so happy to be back with this chapter. Thanks for sticking around and being lovely and patient. Summer may be over but High Rollers is still kickin'!
> 
> Enjoy!

Archie Blackwater can’t believe he’s actually got the flu. For years and years he’d done a fantastic job at feigning, but never catching, illness in the infirmary. Now, during none other than his final year he manages to not only get sick, but get sick on the week that Professor Flitwick has left for Prague, cancelling all charms classes.

 

Brilliant.

 

He coughs loudly into the pillow, not really caring when a droplet of his own infected saliva dribbles out onto his chin. The fever is too high for that; he hasn’t stopped sweating since yesterday. Madame Pomfrey insisted that the room’s temperature had been set at a comfortable 15 c, but Archie’s soaked sheets and hair are begging to differ. If it weren’t potentially the strangest thing ever, Archie would be completely naked right now. No covers, no clothes, no problem. Just a film of sweat over his skin, maybe an ice pack or ten.

 

However, that’s not really a socially acceptable option for the Hogwarts hospital wing. Especially since his Mum hasn’t stopped sending howlers to the administration for allowing her son to contract a “petty muggle illness.” He doubts Pomfrey would be forgiving if he decided go nude. Or the other six patients in the ward, for that matter, coughing up mucus and fading in and out of fever-y consciousness every so often.

 

Archie looks at the white, sterile ceiling. When he breathes, he can hear his lungs crying.

 

He’s sure that if he’s ever felt like he were ill before, it’s nothing compared to now.

 

“Blackwater,” Pomfrey calls from his left. “You’ve got visitors.”

 

Archie slowly cranes his head in their direction, feeling beads of perspiration slide down the base of his neck and rest in a shallow pool around his collarbones. His vision is blurred from staring at the ceiling lights, but he’d recognize his friends anywhere.

 

“Wear these,” he hears Madame Pomfrey insist, “wash your hands before and after. I can’t have anymore of you contracting the flu this year, you got that?”

 

“Got it,” Anya responds, voice muffled as snaps a hospital mask over her face. “Can’t afford to get sick anyway, not with the SAPS protest march coming up.”

 

Archie doesn’t have to look to know Elsea and Madame Pomfrey are rolling their eyes.

 

The two girls saunter over, Elsea immediately removing the mask as she turns towards Archie. She’d never, ever, wear anything that ugly on her face. Not even if she’s depressed or in a room full of influenza-ridden wizards.

 

“Oh Archie,” Anya coos, her brows furrowed sympathetically. “How’d this happen?”

 

Archie shrugs, turning away momentarily to cough bloody murder into his pillow.

 

“Maeve Daniels,” Archie rasps into the sheets. It’s the first thing he’s said in over twenty-four hours, and it hurts.

 

Elsea laughs sardonically, always unsympathetic no matter the circumstance.

 

Of course she had been slightly different lately. _Slightly_. Right before Archie had gotten sick, he could’ve sworn he’d caught her smoking alone inside the greenhouse. Which isn’t weird, necessarily, because they were going to get high anyway - but it’s common courtesy to _wait_. And Elsea rarely smokes by herself. She’d constantly say, “that’s where the line between stoner and dealer is drawn, Archduke.”

 

Which is why he didn’t get a cut of her profit.

 

Ever.

 

“Maeve?” Anya asks, confused. “I thought you dropped her? Because she got creepy?”

 

Archie winces. She did get creepy. She still _is_ creepy; he just has an irrational fear of sexual dry spells.

 

“God, you’re pathetic,” Elsea says, snorting. He expects her to keep speaking, probably lecture him on how much of a bloody idiot he’s being, but she just sighs and stares at her chipped nail polish. The room falls into an unsettling silence.

 

Archie wonders if it’s strange to miss being berated. Lately the only nagging he had received had been from Anya, but she’s quite gentle with him, and it was really always centered around Elsea’s recent vacancy.

 

“I just don’t get it!” Anya would say, continuously, while they were spending their newfound alone time at breakfast. Elsea never bothers waking up early anymore. “How can you let a boy bring you down so much? Everyone gets their heart broken. They just deal with it everyday. Right Archie?”

 

He can’t correct her on the fact that it’s more than that to Elsea (integrity, money, family, security, etc.) but he doesn’t completely disagree. Elsea has been a walking shadow for way too long now, and it’s become fairly evident that Archie is really bad at managing High Roller business _and_ listening to Anya gab on about Merlin knows what. It’s taking a toll on everyone. And insulting him, too, after Archie made damn sure that Remus Lupin would keep his worthless mouth shut.

 

So he might’ve agreed with some of Anya’s points now and again.

 

“Suppose this is a sign then, huh Archie?” Anya breaks the silence. She waggles her eyebrows, the white of the hospital mask making them look almost like separate, living entities on her face.

 

“Sign about what?” he asks, blinking dreamily. He feels like he’s laying three meters in front of the sun, it’s so hot in the room.

 

“That your player days are over,” Anya says, as if it’s obvious. “You’re ready for a _real_ relationship.”

 

Archie resents that.

 

“What’s that even mean?” Archie prods, squinting. “My relationships are very real. Just because I don’t call every girl I hook up with my girlfriend doesn’t make it some sort of… arrangement.”

 

“Yeah, okay. A real relationship entails some sort of give _and_ take.”

 

“ _Give and take_ ,” Archie repeats. He’s surprised that Elsea looks bored, right now. Anya has always been critical of everyone around her, but never really him. “I haven’t _taken_ anything, okay? Both parties are giving and receiving happily, thank you very much.”

 

“Please!” Anya quips, pulling her mask down slightly. “Then explain to me why you won’t just date Maeve, then? She wants you to give her that. Why wouldn’t you if things are so happy?”

 

Archie feels himself heat up, if it’s even possible. He regrets his later thoughts. Being berated _sucks_ , especially from someone like Anya who isn’t even _funny_ about it.

 

He inhales.

 

“What about Black?” Archie asks. His throat feels raw, he’ll be taking a long nap after they leave. “Why don’t you call him your boyfriend, huh? What’s the deal with that?”

 

Anya’s eyes widen. She shakes her head, furious.

 

“Sirius Black is _not-_ oh my god.” She stands up dramatically, her cheeks bright red. “Archie. I hate Sirius Black; all I’ve taken from him was quidditch knowledge. For you. Don’t even accuse me of such-”

 

“-You hate Sirius Black? Since when?” Archie asks. That’s news. He’s sure, at least from the amount of time they spend in the same vicinity, that something had been brewing between them. Of course she never discussed it with him, but he’s no idiot. He’s not in Ravenclaw because he looks good in blue.

 

Though he does look quite sharp in that color.

 

“Since always. He’s just like... I don’t know,” Anya explains, sitting back down. “Annoying? Really loves himself? He accused you of being the High Roller. Like how _could_ I like him. Do you really think that I’d sink that low? Come on.”

 

Archie doesn’t know when this whole thing got so interesting to him. Maybe it’s the fever talking, or Elsea taking leave on their friendship, he doesn’t know. But he’s not bored. Not at all. In fact, he might find Anya Darzi a little charming. There has always been a really clearly drawn line that Archie was Elsea’s friend first, Anya’s second. But now things have changed, and Anya is sort of pretty in a refined, bring-home-to-Mum-and-Dad sort of way. Perhaps one day he would. She does seem like wife material.

 

Of course, not now, though. Not while he’s half the High Roller and in his aesthetic prime.

 

“What ever makes you happy,” Archie says. His head is pounding, Anya can be anything she wants, but she’s giving him a headache. “I’m _not_ judging you.”

 

He can see her cheeks swell, smiling under the mask.

 

“Like you’re judging me.”

 

Anya raises her hand to smack him, but drops it quickly.

 

“If I could hit you right now…” Anya starts, shaking her head.

 

Elsea yawns loudly.

 

“Fucking freezing. You good here Anya? I’m good,” she says, and then she averts her bloodshot eyes to Archie. He realizes then that she’s stoned, but when is she ever _not_ now. “Wow. You look like shit.”

 

“Thanks,” Archie says dryly. Honestly, he does want peace and quiet, but he feels like Elsea just got there. He barely got to speak to her, he misses her. She shouldn’t be leaving so quickly. And he knows he’s being childish but: _he wouldn’t leave her_.

 

“I guess so?” Anya says warily. She’s picked up on Elsea’s blatant shitiness as well. “If Archie is fine with that. I can stay the rest of the night, honestly.”

 

Elsea scoffs.

 

“What?” Anya wines. “I don’t have class.”

 

Then under her breath:

 

_“And I’m a bloody good friend.”_

 

“Alright,” Elsea snaps, getting to her feet, cracking her knuckles. “It’s been a ride. Let’s move.”

 

Anya looks up, incriminated. Archie wants her to do her thing. Her Anya, judgy _I’m going to make you feel like shit for this later_ thing.

 

But instead, she stands up.

 

“We’re going to come back tomorrow. And I’m going to bring chocolate frogs, okay?” Anya says, holding her hands behind her back.

 

“Chocolate is bad for a sore throat,” Archie teases. “But bring them anyway. For the cards.”

 

Anya removes her mask and heads towards the door. “You know what? I’ll just bring you the cards. I’ll eat the chocolate. How about that?”

 

Archie laughs. It hurts his chest in the worst way, but he does.

 

“Brilliant, thanks.”

 

Anya smiles widely at him before shifting her gaze to Elsea, who's still hovering over Archie’s bed.

 

“Didn’t you want to leave?”

 

Elsea nods. “Yeah. I’ll come out in just a minute.”

 

Anya nods her head warily, but understands. She walks out of the room with a flick of her hair.

 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Elsea mumbles to Archie, rolling her eyes.

 

“Look at you like what?”

 

“Like I’m the sick one,” she explains. “Because I’m fine. I just had some brownies baking in my room so I’m a little paranoid.”

 

Archie opens his mouth to ask the golden question, but Elsea cuts him off.

 

“Yes, they’re for you. I’ll sneak them in later tonight. And don’t worry; I’ve charmed them to make sure they don’t have any negative effects when mixed with other pharmaceuticals. Genius, I know.”

 

Archie smiles wide, he feels the sickly plaque on his teeth when he spreads his lips, but he doesn’t care.

 

“I am in love with you, Elsea Holmes,” Archie admits. “You are it. You are the love of my life.”

 

“Don’t be such a nerd.”

 

“I mean it. You’re like, heaven and earth and all that other junk.”

 

“Stop it.” Elsea fakes bashfulness. “I know I’ve been weird lately, but I think I’m getting it back. How long has it been? A week since Remus found out? If something were to happen, I think I’d be in trouble by now.”

 

Archie frowns. “Elsea it’s been almost three weeks.”

 

Elsea frowns back. “What?”

 

“But it’s fine!” Archie insists, a little to hard, he starts coughing. “You’re fine. Just keep-”

 

Archie coughs so hard he feels bile burning at the back of his throat.

 

“-keep on, keepin’ on.”

 

Elsea nods her head, arms folded. “Right. Try to make it to tonight, okay Arch?”

 

She begins to walk away, heading backwards towards the double doors. Archie nods, coughing till his eyes water. He can’t speak; if he does he might puke, so he offers a weak thumbs up.

 

And Elsea laughs. Elsea Holmes laughs, _finally_.

 

-.-

 

“I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.”

 

“Come on, Moony, what’s so different about tonight?” James slings his arm over Remus’ shoulders and yanks them closer. “Just your average full moon in which one friend turns into a rabid werewolf and the other three become adorable, prancing forest animals who keep him in line. Really, it’s a tagline for a children’s story.”

 

“Brother’s Grimm, maybe,” Remus replies, slouching away and tapping his finger against the windowsill. They’re all sat in their dormitory, waiting for Peter to return from his tutoring session so they can slip out of the castle and into the Whomping Willow for the monthly full moon festivities.

 

But Remus is hardly feeling festive. In fact, he’s had an aching pit in his stomach for a week now. Could it be due to the fact that Elsea Holmes is practically a corporal version of herself? Like a ghost, haunting the castle (and him, most of all) with her bloodshot eyes and lack of any response to his presence? Or could it be that the war raging outside the castle walls happens to be magnifying, with more and more deaths of loved ones of friends and family reported in the Prophet each morning?

 

Remus reckons it’s a bit of both. But he feels even more trash in the fact that Elsea’s indifference and lack of faith in him is hurting him the most.

 

He won’t tell. He’d never tell. Well, that’s not true. But he won’t. Not because of Blackwater either, because he knows it’s the right thing to do. And there’s still a part of him that wants to protect Elsea no matter what.

 

“Even I’m in a better mood,” Sirius pips up. He’s lounging back on his bed, hair tousled over his forehead and a charms textbook propped up in his lap. He’s not opened it, but Remus figures it’s mainly an aesthetic choice. “You should catch up, mate.”

 

“He told us already,” James says, trying to grab Remus again in a shoulder hug. “His moods don’t correlate with ours.”

 

“Maybe we should correlate with him, then,” Sirius suggests, grinning. “Prongs. Tell me the ugliest feature on my face. Go.”

 

James sighs, looking up and the ceiling. “It’s not going to work.”

 

“Of course it is. Just tell me what it is. Is it my nose? My eyes too far apart? Tell me.”

 

James blinks. “The whole thing.”

 

Sirius laughs.

 

“You’re right,” he admits, glancing at himself in the mirror of Remus’ shoulder. “It’s not going to work. I know I’m beautiful.”

 

Remus rolls his eyes. He’d probably find the exchange funnier if the sun weren’t about to set and turn him into a werewolf in the Gryffindor Common room.

 

“What happened with Anya?” Remus asks, mostly to get his mind off what is about to happen. “Is that whole thing over?”

 

Sirius laughs again, this time strained, and awkward.

 

“It’s never over, Moony.” Sirius says. “I apologized to her last night. She said ‘whatever’ but I’ll take what I can get, you know? Anyway I asked her out to have lunch with me and she said she couldn’t because Blackwater is ill or whatever. But she did smile for like, a second.”

 

Remus nods. It’s sad to Sirius this way, all delusional over a girl. He’s supposed to be the one with game in their group, not the lovesick fool. Remus is starting to dislike Anya. She’s allowed to dislike Sirius, of course, but to string him along? That’s not okay with him.

 

“You know,” James starts, “I heard that the older McKinnon is into you, Black. Maybe you should give it a go.”

 

Sirius raises his brows. “Marlene? Didn’t she graduate?”

 

“Yeah, but she’s around I think… and she’s an older lady,” Remus adds. He has no idea if Marlene even remembers Sirius’ name, but hell, it’s better than Anya Darzi.

 

“Oh,” Sirius says, nodding his head. “That’s… interesting.”

 

Just as things begin to get a little strange, Peter rushes into the room.

 

“Sorry I’m late!” he cries, stumbling over a pair of Sirius’ shoes on the floor. “What did I miss?”

 

“Just talking about how Sirius should shag Marlene McKinnon again,” James offers. “You did lose your big V to her in fourth year, right?”

 

Sirius coughs. “Uh, fifth, mate. Thanks for the vote of confidence, though.”

 

James just nods.

 

“Well, problem there,” Peter replies, dropping his bag on his bed and moving to his trunk. He scours around in there for a moment before pulling out his heavy, winter cloak. “Marlene graduated. Doesn’t she live in Paris?”

 

“You sure as hell know a lot about Marlene,” Sirius probes as the four of them pack up their things and make their way towards the door. “Have you been stalking her, Pete?”

 

Peter just gives him a pointed-look.

 

“So Marlene’s off the table,” James shrugs, “ _fine._ Plenty of mermaids in the sea. Uh, well, there’s always Caroline McKinnon.”

 

“Camilla,” Remus corrects.

 

“Isn’t she like, twelve?” Sirius asks, stopping on the head of the stairs.

 

“Yeah, no, she’s a third year,” Remus says. “Which is a hard no, you fucking sicko.”

 

“She’s a sixth year.” Peter coughs. “Nice.”

 

“Hey Peter, you have all the records on the McKinnons now?” James challenges. “Why don’t you write a book about them? Write some McKinnon sister fan fiction.”

 

“Maybe I will,” Peter counters. “I’ll start my research in the McKinnon section in the Library! Then you can decide which one is a better option to cattle off Sirius that way.”

 

James’ jaw drops. “You bastard.”

 

Peter smirks. “Shall we go? The sun is nearly down.”

 

“We definitely shall,” Remus says, getting to his feet. He’s had one too many nightmares in which he transformed at an inappropriate time. And, because he didn’t always have a massive mansion to run around in, he’s definitely screwed his “wolfing” process up one too many times. The worst one resulting in him becoming the urban legend of the neighboring muggle town. But what’s he to do about that one but embrace it?

 

“Okay, fine,” Sirius says, yawning. “But I’m really not in the mood to get too crazy tonight. Last time we ran into those centaurs and I was nearly their dinner.”

 

“Nearly, Sirius,” James emphasizes. “Nearly. Remus, you can go as crazy as you want.”

 

“Thanks James.”

 

Remus smiles tightly, pushing the portrait door open. He knows James means well, but he’d really like to correct him on the fact that Remus has virtually no control over how “crazy” things may get.

 

And he has a feeling tonight might be really, really, off-kilter. He hasn’t been feeling his best all day and he knows that’s a sign of an awful transformation. But what’s he to do about it? At this point, he can just force a smile and, when things get bad, his friends are smart enough to slip away, right?

 

James and Peter continue to bicker good-naturedly as they slip through the castle, the dark halls and creepy shadows reminding Remus of what is about to happen as he turns each corner. He shouldn’t feel this way, not anymore. He’s been shifting for years now, and honestly, they should be more routine than the great unknown he’s feeling now.

 

“Hey,” Sirius knocks his shoulder against Remus’ startling him, “you alright, mate? You’re not still freakin’ out about the moon, are you?”

 

Remus shoots him an irritated look. “No Sirius, I’m thinking about your mum in lacy lingerie.”

 

Sirius shakes his head. “Ah, the classic mum joke to distract from the issue. Nice try, but not this time.”

 

“That’s not what your mum said to me last night.”

 

“Nope,” Sirius argues. “And you’re gonna be fine. Like you always are. Even if you’re having the most pathetic girl problems I’ve ever seen.”

 

Remus almost, _almost_ , accuses Sirius of having the most pathetic girl issues of all time, but he doesn’t have the spirit. “We are not getting into this.”

 

Sirius groans, leaning his head back dramatically. “You and Elsea should just shag and get it over with. All this drama is driving me bloody insane. It’s making _my_ life harder, you know that? Anya is picking sides.”

 

“There are no sides,” Remus retorts, noticing the conversation has once again gone back to Anya bloody Darzi.

 

“There bloody well is, thank you very much.” Sirius shakes his head. “Thanks to you and Elsea, I’ve got no damn reason to be around her as much. When you two had a little canoodling thing going, I could pop around. No creepiness. Now? I’m a certified stalker if I keep showing up outside their common room.”

 

“You’d be a certified creeper if you did that anytime.”

 

Sirius slugs him in the shoulder for that one. “Details, mate. As far as I’m concerned, this is all about me.”

 

Remus snorts.

 

The cool autumn breeze hits Remus like a bucket of ice water. Uncomfortable, but alive. Very much so. It seems like every time he’s about to transform, he’s at the receiving end of some sort of extreme adrenaline rush. He could start running, if he wants. Run straight through the Forbidden Forest and whatever lays on the other side.

 

“Bloody freezing out,” Peter grumbles from his left, suddenly. “I think we should Shrieking Shack it, tonight.”

 

Remus isn’t so sure about that, especially with the unhinged feeling that’s been lingering in his body all day. But hell, maybe it’s better to be inside if he’s a bit extra wolf-y tonight. Maybe his alter ego will be a bit more delicate, if enabled.

 

“Yeah, but I’m tired of walking,” James whines, looking at Remus as if he were asking for permission to change.

 

He shrugs.

 

“Remus,” James asks anyway. “May I get my stag on?”

That joke is only funny so many times.

 

“Go for it, man,” Remus says.

 

At that, Sirius and James run forward, ready to transform.

 

Peter stands next to him, sighing. “Being a rat is the pits, man.”

 

Remus remembers the first time they all transformed in front of each other years ago. The shock of Peter’s animal identity sent Sirius into fits of laughter, James into a series of puns that to this day still have not subsided, and Peter into the depths of humiliation.

 

Even Remus has to admit, while the rat has its benefits, it’s not half as cool as a majestic stag running through the grounds, or a big black dog kicking major arse.

 

“Could be worse,” Remus offers, “you could be a werewolf.”

 

Peter laughs, smacking Remus on the back. “Good one. Here we go!”

 

Peter leaps forward and suddenly, there’s no Peter anymore, but a tiny, rangy rat scurrying down the grass after the others. Remus sighs, stuffing his hands into his cloak and strolling along after, the pit in his stomach never subsiding.

 

\- . -

 

Elsea is a few feet away from Greenhouse 7 when she notices the door is slightly ajar.

 

_Hell no._

Despite the fact that her head is permanently clouded with a haze of smoke and her eyes are so dilated she can’t see properly, she leaps right into action. Removing her wand from the pockets of her robes, she creeps slowly towards the door, ready to oblivate the fuck out of anyone who might have noticed her stash in the back of the greenhouse.

 

Ready to oblivate Peter Pettigrew, that is. She’s been absolutely paranoid ever since two Gryffindor schmucks have figured out her secret. Remus is bad enough, but Peter? No telling what he might do.

 

“Freeze, motherfuckers,” Elsea says, kicking open the door the rest of the way and standing in her best Starsky and Hutch pose. “Put your hands down and step away from the back cabinet.”

 

The two figures put both of their hands up and take a step backwards. Elsea, admittedly, can’t believe that worked.

 

“Turn around, fools.” Elsea continues in the act, circling the table at the center of the room, wand pointed forward like a gun. “Show yourselves.”

 

“No!” one of them shouts in a strange, muffled, high-pitched voice.

 

The other figure hits him. “You idiot, now she’s got us figured out.”

 

Elsea actually didn’t have a clue who they are, but now that she’s heard her voice, it’s too easy.

 

“Hadley,” Elsea hisses, lowering her wand. “What the hell are you doing here? Digging through my personal belongings?”

 

Hadley turns on her heel, putting her hands back at her side after tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear.

 

“These aren’t your belongings, first off,” Hadley clarifies, “they belong to the school.”

 

“Yeah, okay, because four full bushels of marijuana are school property. You got me there!”

 

The scene is all very too much peculiar: Hadley, wearing all black with her ass backed up against Elsea’s back cabinet and Webb, shirtless for no bloody reason as usual, staring at Elsea like she’s some piece of raw meat.

 

“What did I say about looking for me than five seconds at a time, Webb?” Elsea snaps, waving her wand at Webb.

 

“Don’t remember many things you say, Holmes. Too busy staring into those beautiful eyes of yours,” Webb attempts, waggling his eyebrows in a way that is totally nauseating. “Can’t blame me for that.”

 

“You’re scum.”

 

“Only for you.”

 

“Stop trying to distract me,” Elsea glares between Webb and Hadley, “what the _fuck_ are you doing in here?”

 

“Came to visit you,” Webb explains, waving his wrist around nonchalantly, as if it were obvious. “Got a few questions to run by you about the product. See if you had any more Happy Pills. I’ve run out.”

 

“You’d have to purchase them from my cold, lifeless body after what you two have just done.”

 

“That can be arranged,” Hadley retorts, waving her own wand in Elsea’s direction.

 

“Funny,” Elsea counters. For some reason, as terrible as everything that is going on is, she feels full at the moment. Like herself, sitting at the head of the mob table in the Room of Requirement, scrutinizing everyone for being the pieces of shit they are. “I want you two out before I fire you and turn you in.”

 

“Turn us in?” Webb steps forward, seemingly serious, for once. “You’re the High Roller, have you forgotten? The price on your head is much higher than ours.”

 

“Where is your proof of that, Webb?” Elsea says, smirking. “Because last time I checked, I’ve never dealt one drug to one student directly. Nor is their proof of what I do besides heresy. The only one that can turn me in, is me. I have control of the marijuana and ludes here, kid. Not you.”

 

“What are you saying?” Hadley presses. She doesn’t look worried, exactly, but the closest she might get to that.

 

“I’m saying that I can make those four bushels of weed that you were just so interested in twenty five seconds ago appear under your bed, or in your closet, right when Lily Evans is doing an inspection. Or Dumbledore himself, if you prefer.”

 

Webb looks affronted. “We could turn you in just as fast-”

 

“-With what proof? You have all the weed now, you’re just as much the High Roller as I am.” Elsea explains. “Hell, maybe even more. My hands are clean.”

 

The room is silent. Webb and Hadley never looked so hateful before, leaning away from the cupboard now, staring from their shoes, to the musty glass ceiling, anywhere but Elsea. Meanwhile, she feels powerful. Although Elsea just nearly discredited herself, she knows that she just put two usually defiant people in their place. That’s why she is in charge. If Archie were here, he’d be giving her a round of applause.

 

Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin can bring it the hell on.

 

“Why were you here anyway?” Elsea asks, now that she has the upper hand. “I’m assuming you weren’t, you know, shirtless before you got here.”

 

Webb opens his mouth to speak, but Elsea cuts him off.

 

“Wait, no. You definitely were. But really, I’d like an explanation.”

 

Hadley, through tight, angry lips, mutters something under breath.

 

“What was that?”

 

Hadley rolls her eyes. “We overheard you were cooking brownies, we wanted to get some for ourselves because you never share those.”

 

Elsea nods her head, understanding. “Is that really it?”

 

“Yes,” Webb agrees. “We thought that it’d be in here, because you’ve been kind of wandering in and out all day and then we found _everything…_ so, you know…”

 

“Ah, yes.” Elsea says, she begins walking towards them. For some reason she can’t imagine why, Webb flinches. “I mean, you could’ve asked. The only people taking them were Archie and me. I have about four other pieces.”

 

Hadley lets out an exasperated sigh.

 

“I was gonna share them with you guys tomorrow, actually. Isn’t that funny? This whole situation could’ve been avoided so easily.” Elsea drums her fingers on the worktable, casting a glance between Webb and Hadley. The power runs through it, electrifying and magnifying her every movement. She _owns_ them, these two, the rest of her dealers. She’s Elsea Holmes, secret High Roller, quasi-mob boss. They can’t cross her, not for fear of their lives.

 

So she spreads a cruel grin on her face. “How are we going to fix this problem, then?”

 

Hadley opens her mouth to speak, but it’s Webb that steps forward. Suddenly she has a face full of politically incorrect tribal tattoos. “I have a proposition for you.”

 

His brown eyes twinkle in the dim moonlight and Elsea suddenly has a flashback to his earlier offer of sex and productivity. She frowns, placing her hand on his chest and shoving him backwards as hard as she can. “Not that.”

 

“What then?”

 

Webb still towers of her, and she suddenly loses focus of Hadley who is standing behind him. “You’ll just have to double your sales next week, I suppose. Twice the weed, twice the ludes. And you’ll have to take a cut of your profit too.”

 

Webb opens his mouth to protest, but Elsea suddenly has her wand pointed into his chest. “Deal?”

 

He swallows, frowns, then nods. “Whatever, Holmes. The sex would have been better.”

 

“Doubt it,” she sneers, peering around to see Hadley glaring at her. “Out you go.”

 

With that, Webb and Hadley retreat out of the greenhouse.

 

Elsea smiles to herself like it’s the end of a romantic comedy. _Elsea Gets Her Groove Back_ , or something along those lines. Either way, she doesn’t dwell for long. She has brownies to cut into little stars, hearts, and crowns, of course.

 

-.-

 

By the time she sneaks back in the infirmary, it’s well past curfew and far past midnight. The get well package she assembled for Archie took a lot longer than she’d initially planned; which might have been derailed a bit by her private smoke session in the greenhouses. Either way, she’s got a pretty purple, iridescent package underneath her arm, stuffed full with sweets, weed brownies, and the answers to the make-up charms quiz.

 

She’s technically not supposed to be visiting Archie, let alone be caught out of bed at such hours, so Elsea slinks through the shadows of the corridors in a way that she thinks is totally low key, but is most definitely obvious. But luckily for her, she’s memorized prefect patrols in spite of Remus a few weeks back, and manages to stroll right over to the hospital wing without a single sighting.

 

Archie is in the main wing of the infirmary, sitting up in bed with a dazed expression on his face. Not his typical “I’m stoned” expression, but more of a “I’m bored out of my bloody mind and I napped all day and now I can’t sleep” sort. Because Elsea is not quiet, nor is she sneaky at the moment, she trips over a pile of clean bedpans near the door and sends them shattering to the ground. He looks over, amused as hell, as Elsea quickly slides into the shadows.

 

Archie chuckles. “Coast is clear.”

 

Elsea pokes her head around the corner.

 

“Hi,” she chirps, creeping out once she got a good look around. “I brought you a gift basket.”

 

Archie gasps, clutching his chest before slinking into a quick coughing fit. After he gets himself together, he smiles.

 

“Elsea,” he coos. “Who are you? What have you done to my heartless, Bitch Faced best friend?”

 

“Murdered her in cold blood,” Elsea replies, settling onto the chair next to him. “She was an uptight bitch.”

 

“Shame you got to her first,” Archie says, wheezing. “I wanted to do it. Couldn’t stand her.”

 

“Me neither,” Elsea says, looking at her hands. “And I want to apologize on her behalf, by the way. She definitely put more on your plate than she intended.”

 

“Did she?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Is she also sorry for being the spaciest git of all time?”

 

“Yes, but don’t push it.”

 

“Alright ma’am,” with that Archie yanks open the package and the contents spill onto his blankets. He wastes no time digging in, and Elsea lets her eyes wander around the hospital wing for the first time. There are no other students spending the night in the front room, and Elsea reckons Madam Pomfrey put Archie here to keep a better look on him.

 

He’s never been the trustworthiest. Well, to everyone but Elsea.

 

“Where’s Madam Pomf?” Elsea asks, out of caution. “Where is _everyone_?”

 

“Good question,” Archie says, mouth full. “I think there was an emergency involved Potter and those blokes. I don’t know. I saw Black and Pettigrew walking through before, lookin’ real shaken up. It’s either Potter or Lupin.”

 

Potter or Lupin. Remus.

 

 _Remus_.

 

Elsea flips from relaxed, post-depression mode, to absolute panic. She looks at Archie, who is already watching her with a glazed over expression. He’s high already. Fantastic.

 

“You okay?” he asks, dazed.

 

“Yeah I’m fine,” Elsea says. She’s not fine, actually. She’s breathless; she feels like a riptide of sweat has just flooded into her palms. Remus can’t be hurt, can he? He’s too straight faced to get into some sort of crazy, freak accident. The only thing Elsea can think possible is that Archie got him sick that time cornered him in the hall and threatened him. And that was forever ago, practically.

 

Elsea sighs. A sick side of her wants to laugh and say, “Fucker _deserved_ this,” but another part of her wants to sneak into the next ward with a first aid kit, and maybe another gift basket, just see if he’s alright.

 

It’s then she realizes she can barely piece together a mental image of his face, she hasn’t seen him in that long. Of course they’ll see each other next patrol - there is no avoiding that, unfortunately. It almost knocks her back to her past, despondent phase, thinking about that. Thinking about _him_ at all.

 

“You sure, mate?” Archie places his hand on hers and Elsea twitches in response.

 

“Um,” she mumbles. “I need to... yeah… I need to see what’s going on.”

 

Archie raises his eyebrows. “What does that mean? You gonna break into the back room of the hospital wing?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Elsea,” Archie laughs, squeezing her hand, “what’s going on?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“ _Elsea_.”

 

“I’m just really tired of this.”

 

Archie blinks, his eyes bloodshot. He’s probably not the best person to vent to at the moment, but it doesn’t really matter. He’s asking. And she’s emotionally raw.

 

“Tired of what?” he asks.

 

“Everything. Like it’s just… _exhausting_ ,” Elsea says. “I can’t go through an hour without feeling just about every emotion on the spectrum. I’m scared, I’m sad, I’m laughing, I’m crying. I miss Remus but I absolutely _hate_ him. God, I miss who I _used_ to be.”

 

Archie nods, urging Elsea to go on. “I mean, you’re not a different person. You’re just sad, you know?”

 

“I’m worried that I’ll never get that back,” she continues, her voice cracks but it goes ignored. “What if I’m just this sad mess for the rest of my life? Should I even be the High Roller anymore? Why am I letting a boy get to me like this?”

 

Elsea blinks back her tears, breathing in sharply through her mouth.

 

“I think I hate myself.”

 

She lies down on her back, facing the ceiling on the edge of Archie’s bed. It’s unclear how it happened, but Elsea has never felt more sober. She wants to hide from it.

 

“Woah.” Archie leaps forward and grabs both her hands now. “Woah nelly. You don’t hate yourself. You’re Elsea bloody Holmes, you’re probably the most fantastic girl in the entire bloody commonwealth, yeah? Don’t hate yourself.”

 

“Meh,” is all Elsea can reply.

 

“Don’t meh me,” Archie argues. “Do you want to sneak into the back? You’re not exactly the most stealth person at the moment but it wouldn’t go too terribly. There’s curtains and whatnot.”

 

Elsea arches a brow. “That would go terribly.”

 

“You suggested it earlier. Besides, it would be brilliant. Plus I’m about to pass out, so I won’t be much of a presence anymore. Just tip-toe on over and take a quick peaksy and then scurry your bum off to bed.”

 

Elsea looks towards the back of the wing. It _would_ be quite easy.

 

“Look,” Archie carries on, although his words are muffled by the sheets. “You’re going to drive yourself crazy if you don’t at least _find out who it is_. I know it would drive me absolutely nuts. In fact, it sort of is. You should find out for me.”

 

Elsea sits up abruptly. “What?”

 

“Think of it as a favor,” Archie says. Elsea knows he’s being manipulative, but in a weird way, she’s game for it. She knows what she wants. “Check back with me tomorrow and just give me a heads up. Or shoot me an owl, I don’t know. I’m here, so if I get any new info I can just tell you…. think of it as just your average, daily, High Roller-esque snooping.”

 

She’s still unsure, but she nods. “Right.”

 

“Like what we did that time with Xavier last year,” Archie explains nostalgically. “When I followed him to every person he sold to until you figured out he was smoking large quantities by himself? That was sort of fun.”

 

It was sort of fun. Elsea can’t deny that. The whole sneaking around, black market, atmosphere always drew her in. Despite her “philanthropic” purposes for dealing, there is always and has always been that. Elsea likes being the High Roller. It’s integral to her very being.

 

“Okay,” Elsea rasps, a grin slowly growing on her lips. “I’m in.”

 

“Up and at ‘em,” Archie cheers as Elsea slips up from her seat and moves across the old, wooden floor. She’s typically a decently sneaky person, and she prides herself on her ability to pop out of nowhere and scare the pants off of Archie from time to time. But she’s not exactly herself, and she’s coming down from a constant high, so there’s the problem of depth perception and just well, overall life perception.

 

She tiptoes, careful to not let the hard soles of her boots make too much noise. But there’s a single, burning light behind the left side of the curtain, and Elsea creeps over there. She looks behind her, gets an encouraging thumbs up from Archie, and settles quietly against the wall where there’s just a slight crack in the curtain.

 

And this crack, well, it shows her a hell of a lot.

 

Sitting bedside is Sirius, head cradled in his hands. He’s filthy; with dirt caked into his long hair and scrapes all down his arms. His clothes are tattered and Elsea can see the signs of his shoulders shaking, like maybe he’s trying to hold back sobs. Peter is a few steps away, leaning against the wall, his face pale and grave, like he might vomit any second. He too is covered in mud, and he seems to have lost his shirt and instead has a hospital wing issued blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

 

Then she notices him.

 

James.

 

He’s lying in the bed, writhing in pain, as Madame Pomfrey attempts to hold down his shoulders and pour some sort of liquid onto his face. His eye. Or, well, what used to be.

 

It’s horrific; Elsea finds her entire stomach drop, her jaw slacken, and her high disappear.

 

There’s blood dripping down James’ face, all over the bed, on Sirius’ hands, and in Peter’s hair. Elsea realizes there must be a silencing charm on the area because James looks like he’s screaming. Really screaming. Horror-filled _shrieks_.

 

Elsea covers her mouth in alarm and inches forward, desperate to hear what’s happening. Sure enough, when she slides just a step to her left, she can hear everything. And it’s _awful._

 

James’ cries are like nothing she’s ever heard before, especially when accompanied with the coppery smell of blood. Sirius is sobbing, actually, holding James’ other arm.

 

“Why is he _still_ awake?” Peter is talking just slightly too loud. “Put him to sleep, for Merlin’s sake, _please_.”

 

“Just hold him still for a moment longer,” Pomfrey urges, “this will put him to sleep.” She then pours a small vial into James’ shrieking lips. Peter looks like he too is on the verge of tears.

 

Seconds later, the room falls into the eeriest silence.

 

And then:

 

“I’m gonna fucking puke,” Sirius sobs. “I can’t look, I’m going to fucking-”

 

“- _Black_ ,” Madame Pomfrey interrupts sharply. “Language.”

 

Sirius looks up to Peter with an alarmed _I can’t believe she just said that_ expression.

 

Peter shrugs. “Will he make a full recovery?” he asks.

 

“Pettigrew,” Pomfrey says, seriously, as she pats some blood off of James’ face. “I don’t even know what the bloody hell happened out there.”

 

“But, will he?” Peter demands, and suddenly Sirius looks like he might Killing Curse everyone in the room if James doesn’t make a full recovery.

 

“He should,” she answers, reluctantly. “I’ll have to regrow his eye. Having to remove it to keep the vital connections in place will have slowed his recovery. I’ll give him two weeks, maybe three. He’ll need to be on a constant potion regimen. And the pain will be constant, dull, but constant.”

 

“Fuck,” Sirius says, but Madame Pomfrey gives him a warning glare and he shuts his mouth, tight.

 

“Thank Merlin.” Peter heaves a sigh of relief.

 

There is a pause, in which Sirius sands up and Elsea can see just how much blood is on his front. It’s covering his collar, up his neck, embedded in the stitching of his shirt buttons. It almost looks like he was lying in it, at some point.

 

Elsea feels a pang of nausea in her stomach. What if he was lying in blood?

 

More nausea hit her when she realizes Remus is still nowhere to be found.

 

“So, you boys going to tell me what happened?” Madame Pomfrey asks, pulling out a small vial from her nightgown. “Two drops of this, day and night. I’ll have to have Professor Slughorn brew him up a bit more of this. Eyes are terribly complicated to grow, mind you. Need all the vital connections and genetics to be just right.”

 

“Remus smashed a window, everything went wrong. It felt so wrong,” Peter mumbles, running a hand through his hair. He looks mad, insane. “Remus was saying all night that something felt off. It sure as hell was.”

 

“It was awful,” Sirius remembers, a haunted look on his face even though whatever happened must have been not more than an hour prior. “A window got smashed, he was so angry. Came after me. James tried to get in the way, you know how he is, and then the next thing we know Remus is on top of him, clawing and _oh-_ ”

 

He pauses, covering his mouth with his hand.

 

“-Where the hell are the puke buckets in here?”

 

 _“Remus attacked him?”_ Madame Pomfrey asks, concerned.

 

“No, no!” Peter says immediately. “He trampled him and some glass caught on his… hide? Hide, really chopped up James’ face. I guess a piece from the window fell into his eye? It was moving so fast.”

 

_Since when does Remus have a hide?_

 

“A hide is already off of the animal,” Sirius mumbles. “In his, you know, hair.”

 

Madame Pomfrey nods.

 

“James kept screaming, we were hauling him over here, you know, kept screaming to get the piece out. He was hysterical, you saw him, I’ve never seen anything so awful,” Sirius continues, looking so pale and so sick. “We wouldn’t let him, that’s why Pete’s got so much blood in his hair. He was literally holding James’ arms down. Merlin, it was so awful. So awful.”

 

“Is Remus still out?” She asks quietly. “In the shrieking shack?”

 

For a brief, unhinged moment, Elsea considers going to the shack, just to figure out what the hell is going on. And she was just outside, literally twenty minutes ago. God, could she have been in the Greenhouses all while this was happening?

 

When Sirius nods his head fearfully, and croaks a small, disappointed, “yep,” she decides against it.

 

“I’d better get more of this,” Madame Pomfrey says, waving the vial around. “He should sleep for the rest of the night. I’d best get the Headmaster down here as well. He’s going to want to speak with Remus about this tomorrow. Merlin, poor boy. He’s going to be so distraught. You can come see him tomorrow, I’m sure. We’ll keep you updated.”

 

With that, Elsea realizes it’s her only chance to escape or she’ll be caught. Caught!

 

She tiptoes backwards and then, because in a fit of horror and disgust, she sprints past a now-sleeping Archie and out the doors of the hospital wing. She runs down the corridor, knowing full well the prefects are done with their rounds, and collapses in a window seat near the dungeons. Her entire body is shaking with adrenaline and fear.

 

As she lays there, thinking of James and Remus, her eyes catch something through the window. It’s a half second in which she registers it, a full moon, glistening high above the tree tops of the Forbidden forest, foreboding, like a warning sign of terrible things to come.

 

And then it hits her. Quickly, forcefully, like the Hogwarts Express. Remus. Full moon. Attacking. Hide. All of those “twenty-four hour bugs.”

 

Elsea leans over the window and vomits onto the corridor floor, ridding her stomach of weed brownies and that God-awful soup from dinner. And as she wipes the back of her hand across her mouth there is one singular thought racing through her mind, unavoidable and deadly:

 

Remus is a werewolf. And he attacked James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHIT. JUST. GOT. REAL.


	17. You Really Got Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are the cheapest person I have ever met,” Archie whispers. “I am actually ashamed to be standing over you as you do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back!

_Remus Lupin is not a werewolf_ , Elsea thinks, as she flips through the pages to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. _I jumped to a conclusion and he just has severe bags under his eyes._

 

She reads the page, following her finger across the words that should not be indicting the boy she desperately fancies as a bloodthirsty, rabid werewolf. But the more she reads, and she’s been reading for nearly two weeks now, the more it becomes impossible for her to come up with further explanations as to how Remus Lupin attacked his best friend _and_ had a fur coat to boot.

 

 _Irritable during the Waxing Gibbus moon phase_.

 

Elsea blinks, thinking back to Halloween. Had that been a Waxing Gibbus night? Or is she deluding herself to think he’d only be so cruel if it weren’t his fault? She wishes she paid more attention to the sky thinking back on it. Astrology seemed so irrelevant before, even in Divination classes. Now, apparently, the phases of the moon control Remus’ life. Elsea can’t imagine living on a schedule controlled by _planets_ ; it must drive Remus absolutely mad.

 

She sighs, resting her chin in her palm. Sure, she’s had her issues in life, but they all pale in comparison to what Remus goes through.

 

“What are you doing here?” Anya asks, barging into the dormitory like she owns the place.

 

And even though she sort of does, it’s still annoying.

 

“Are you reading?” Anya prods further, walking over to the bed to get a closer look at Elsea’s book. Elsea shuts it immediately, hiding her page from Anya’s view.

 

“Yes,” Elsea answers quickly, too quickly. “I do that from time to time, you know.”

 

Anya raises a brow, staring at the cover of her book.

 

“ _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_?”

 

Elsea tightens her jaw. “Archie lent it to me.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I have a fascination with centaurs.”

 

“Since when? You dropped Care of Magical Creatures the moment you could.”

 

“Why are you asking so many _questions,_ oh my _God,_ I am just reading! Can you _chill_? What are you my _mother?_ Chill out _God_?”

 

Anya stares at her, wide eyed, but doesn’t ask anything more.

 

“Anyway,” she starts, clucking her tongue. “The protest is starting in thirty minutes, I have my team setting up downstairs and I’m just a little confused as to why you’re reading a textbook rather than helping your best friend right now, is all.”

 

Elsea is the wide eyed one now.

 

“Sorry, I must’ve lost track of time,” Elsea stammers. “And what do you mean _team_? Sirius and Lily?”

 

She could laugh at the mental image of those two working together. Lily hanging posters in hurry, sweat on her brow, red hair tied back in an intense, athletic ponytail. Sirius would float around, wandering near her, asking questions about Anya’s favorite things and probably her bra-size.

 

“Oh no,” Anya says proudly. “I’ve gained a bit of a following now. It’s Archie, Alice Hackney, Frank Longbottom, Mary Macdonald, June Lee, Maeve Daniels quit since her and Archie had that terrible fall out, Owen McNeilson, Dorcas Meadowes, and Lily Evans, of course, but she can’t make it on account of James.”

 

Account of James.

 

“What happened to James?” Elsea asks, curious to see what the rumor mill had turned out. “He’s been missing lessons for what, a week?”

 

“And a half.” Anya nods. “Lily said that he was smoking in the dorm with Remus, Sirius, and Peter like _imbeciles_. And then, out of bloody nowhere, the bong just… _exploded_. Glass everywhere. So since James was the one about to take the hit at the time, a shard got him right in the eye, nearly split his corneas in two and _everything_. He’s lucky he isn’t blind.”

 

“Oh really?”

 

Elsea almost laughs. First, because the lie is so horribly weak. Second, because bongs do not explode spontaneously, or ever, unless packed with nuclear waste and gasoline. Third, because everyone is completely going to buy that load of utter shit, just because it came out of James Potter’s stupid mouth. The population of Hogwarts is pathetically at the mercy of the idiotic Marauders. Four boys that gave themselves a group name. Embarrassing.

 

“Yeah. Lily is furious, she thinks that it’s probably due to the High Roller’s weed, but even I think that’s a stretch. Probably just a run of the mill Boys Are Stupid accident.”

 

“Sounds like one,” Elsea agrees with Anya quickly, happy that she’s not that clueless. “So shall we go? My legs are asleep.”

 

“Best stretch those out, Els,” Anya says, poking Elsea’s calves with her orange painted nail. “We’ve got marching to do, things to shout, the whole business! Merlin, I’m so proud of you though.”

 

Elsea swings her legs off of the bed and shoots Anya a crooked look. “For what?”

 

“Oh,” Anya blushes, which is strange. “You know, for the last couple weeks. You’ve really gotten your act together. Less weed, more studying. I mean, you're doing light reading on centaurs. It’s really impressive. I’m like, super proud.”

 

Elsea forces a smile, even though she has a strange urge to punch Anya square in the mouth.

 

“Thanks.”

 

-.-

 

“Remus J. Lupin,” James says, in his flirtiest voice. He’s lying in bed, covers pulled up to his chin. There was a distinct chill in the boy’s dormitory the night before. “Are those flowers that you bought me? Or do I have a secret admirer, because I know for a fact that Lily would go nowhere near daisies. She prefers, oddly enough, lilies.”

 

“Funny,” Remus deadpans, “and no.”

 

Remus is pulling on a jumper and attempting not to freeze his junk off in the process. He’d tried a heating charm, but Peter accidentally sat on the little mason jar full of fake fire a few minutes ago, and he doesn't have another.

 

“It was you, I see you blushing.” James insists, glaring at him with one eye. The other one, or what’s left of it, is covered by a black eye patch until it fully recovers. He looks like a pirate with bedhead, and it makes Remus feel terribly guilty.

 

“Okay it was,” Remus admits, rolling his eyes. “I’m not good at this stuff. You know that.”

 

James shakes his head. “No one is, man. I don’t expect anything from you. You clearly weren’t yourself that night. I barely was.”

 

“I nearly tore your eyeball out, though.”

 

“You, the window, a glass bong, irrelevant.”

 

James holds the flowers, the yellow daisies, and brings them up this nose. Remus has been attempting some sort of subtle retributions for the pain and agony he caused his best friend. Sure, it’s not been the first time his werewolf form as attacked, or rather, gone after one of his animagus friends. Just the first time one of them lost a body part and screamed about ending his life. Doesn’t mean Remus doesn’t feel like absolute shit about it, despite James’ assurances that it’s really “not that bad.”

 

“Look,” Remus starts, but James rolls his single eye so dramatically that Remus doesn’t bother finishing. He walks over to James’ bed and crosses his arms over his chest.

 

“I look badass as hell, Moony. Look at me, I’m like a bloody pirate, about to ravish my woman! Take the high seas! If anything, you did me a favor. Look at my eye patch! Look at me! I’m a certified badass motherfucker!”

 

Remus, who has been watching James’ rant with horror, attempts a nod. James doesn’t exactly look badass, more like he’s dressing up still for Halloween. But he’s not going to rain on his parade.

 

“Yeah, you’re one…” He searches for words, but can’t come up with any James-suitable synonyms. “Badass… mother… fucker.”

 

“Cheers Moony,” James says, laughing, as he knocks his bouquet of flowers against Remus’ nose. “You’re a mate.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Alright, down to business, I want you to do a favor for your one eyed friend,” James says, kicking off his covers and visibly shivering at the contact of his bare skin to the cool air. Naturally, James sleeps nearly naked.

 

Remus furrows his brows. “Yes?”

 

“Take Lily...” Remus already doesn’t like this, “to the anti-drug rally today. She really wanted to go but she says she feels to guilty leaving me to miss all the fun.”

 

Remus snorts. “Is that so?”

 

“I know, I know,” James says, sighing. “But I feel like you could get her to go, because you’re the second favorite and all.”

 

“I am?”

 

He honestly couldn’t tell.

 

“Obviously,” James says. “She’s only lectured you, what, once? Think of how much Sirius has had to hear in the past year alone.”

 

“Being your first favorite,” Remus replies.

 

James gasps, “Moony, I would never play favorites.”

 

“You just said--”

 

“Do you honestly listen to what I say?” James asks, bending over and picking up his own jumper and yanking it on inside out and backwards. He shrugs, grabs a pair of sweatpants, and yanks those on his skinny chicken legs as well. “Back to it, take Lily, yeah? She’ll like going with you. Swear.”

 

Remus can’t help but think he and Lily haven’t really got on much lately, but he just shrugs. He owes James this at least.

 

“Fine, where is she?” Remus mumbles.

 

James pumps his fist, cheering. “Shower, go get her, but wait til she’s finished.”

 

“Well I wouldn’t just walk in.”

 

“I would.”

 

“No, you wouldn’t.” Remus chuckles, heading towards the door. “And I’m leaving. Lily won’t let you see her naked, imagine if you just walked in?”

 

James opens his mouth to protest, but falls short. He just nods. “Fair play, Lupin.”

 

-.-

 

“Alright Holmes,” Sirius says, leaning against the wall and squinting his eyes, “on a scale of one to ten, where are my chances with Anya? You know, like, ten being she’s in love with you take her to the bloody chapel already and one being, she fancies you.”

 

“Negative fifty two,” Elsea deadpans, rolling a strand of hair around her finger as she absentmindedly chews on her gum. Her mind is still on Remus, and Sirius’ presence is a terrifying reminder of James lying on a bed, screaming bloody murder.

 

“That bad, huh?” Sirius groans, facade dropping instantly. He’d wandered over to where she was, avoiding the rest of SAPS as they scurried about attempting to organize signs and literature. Anya’s in her element, screaming and ordering everyone about. “Why the hell am I here, then?”

 

“I’ve been asking myself that question all day,” Elsea replies. She taps her boots on the floor and watches as Anya and Mary MacDonald argue over some dumb sign that says _High Roller? More like Die Roller!_ “Why are you here?”

 

Sirius looks down at her with an irritated gaze, then adds, “Because I hate myself?”

 

“Sounds about right.”

 

“Terrible,” Sirius says, sighing. “Pursuing the girl of my dreams is a lot of bloody work.”

 

Elsea shrugs. She feels bad to think this, but she can’t help but believe Sirius’ girl problems aren’t actual problems. “Maybe you should pursue someone else.”

 

“There is no one else.”

 

“I’m sure there are plenty other girls. Some might be lingering right under your nose, but you’d never look.”

 

“Are you asking me out, Holmes?” Sirius smirks, elbowing her in the side. “Because I don’t think I could do that to Moony.”

 

Elsea pales. “What the hell does that mean?”

 

Sirius shrugs, casual as ever. “I’m just saying, you two are so god damn hung up on each other and it’s _bloody annoying_. He just mopes about, saying he doesn’t care, but we all know he does. He doesn’t even bother to coordinate his mood swings with ours anymore. Selfish bastard.”

 

“He would be moping regardless of me. He’s a walking raincloud.” Elsea doesn’t mean for it to sound so damn bitter and passionate, but hell, she’s bitter and passionate. And terrified, that too.

 

_Remus is a werewolf._

 

“Ah.” Sirius laughs, reaching over and ruffling the top of her head. “Don’t be so rude to Moony. Cut him some slack, he’s really trying to wolf through it all.”

 

Elsea nearly chokes on her gum.

 

“What did you say?”

 

“I said he’s trying to work through it all,” Sirius says, looking down at her like she’s just grown a third eye. “Did you think I said something else?”

 

 _Yes_.

 

“No,” Elsea replies carefully.

 

Sirius blinks, then shifts his gaze to a spot beyond Elsea’s head. From the look in his eyes, she’s a bit afraid to see what he’s staring at.

 

“Friends!” he shouts. Elsea looks down. Seeing James, Peter, or God forbid _Remus_ seems like the worst possible scenario at the moment.

 

“I’m not your friend, you miserable bastard,” Remus replies dryly, almost normally, from far away. He must’ve not seen Elsea yet. “Let’s speed this up, I’m starving.”

 

“We just ate,” Lily, who Elsea blissfully had forgotten about for the past few days, calls in reply. “I watched you scarf down two peanut butter sandwiches like a bloody animal.”

 

Bloody animal. Elsea begins to question the existence of irony in this situation and wonders if everyone is just trying to bait her into saying something really, really stupid.

 

“I’m going,” Elsea says, mostly to herself, as she tries to push past Sirius in the opposite direction of Hogwarts least wanted at the moment. She trains her eyes on Anya and Archie, together, hanging a poster, laughing at something. Things are so simple over there. She really wants to be over there.

 

Sirius grabs her around the waist and hauls her back. Elsea screeches, flinging herself about in attempts to get free. Unfortunately, Sirius is the best beater in all of Hogwarts and so he easily holds onto her.

 

“Oh no you don’t,” he says, smiling mischievously. “I can see Remus’ face now, and he’s only slightly paler than you, but only because he’s got a head start with that. Anyway, you aren’t running from him this time.”

 

Elsea doesn’t bother to look, but she knows that Remus and Lily are definitely heading their way, and getting closer by the second.

 

“This time? When have I ever run from Remus?” Elsea argues, but the panic her body pushes the question to the back of her mind. “Let me fucking go now, I will kick you so hard in the nuts they will roll on to the floor! Let me go, fucker!”

 

“Charming, I wonder what he sees in you,” Sirius jokes. It’s not funny.

 

“Are we interrupting something?” Lily asks as she makes it closer. Sirius’ arms are still clasped around Elsea and her head is ridiculously close to his chest. Elsea, in a rare moment, blushes and shoves him back. This time he lets her.

 

She stumbles a bit, then adjusts her hair as she spins around on her heels and comes face to face with Remus for the first time in what feels like _ages_.

 

“Hi,” she gasps, face still blushing a shade of red unknown to her before.

 

Remus’ face is a little surprised, masked in an easy, casual smile as he runs a hand through his disastrously messy hair. “Hey Elsea.”

 

They fall to a silence, and suddenly Elsea finds herself just _staring_. This boy in front of her, face with faint little white scares, pale complexion, those kind eyes. There’s a fresh wound on spot where his neck meets his collar. She could only imagine it were a window shard or a wild claw that done it to him. If it had been weeks ago, and she asked about the scar, he’d probably make up some random story pulled straight from thin air. What else has he made up? Did Willa know about his secret? Did a giant fish pull him off the boat when he was nine years old, dragging him through the water?

 

She hoped, at the very least, that was true. It was the only thing he actually told her, thinking about it.

 

“Elsea,” Lily’s voice cuts their uninterrupted eye contact, “where’d you get that t-shirt?”

 

Elsea pauses, looking down at her t-shirt. It’s for the SAPS campaign, a shirt with the High Roller’s signature gold crown with a red X through it. Anya had given it to her a few days ago, and Elsea thought it was bloody hilarious.

 

“Anya. She’s got a few over there,” Elsea points out, just as she notices Remus take a step back to look at her shirt. Which transitions into Remus’ eyes gazing all over her.

 

He smiles at it, then looks at her with a _you’ve got to be kidding me_ expression that makes her want to hide out in the Forbidden Forest till the day she graduates. How dare he?

 

“Lets get some Evans,” Sirius says, pulling at her arm. “I feel very underdressed, thinking about it.”

 

Lily, disgusted, nods her head. “Fine, but don’t touch me.”

 

And then there are two.

 

“Patrol Friday,” Remus says randomly. Is it trying to be nice? Elsea is confused.

 

“What?” she asks.

 

“Patrol. This Friday. Are you ready?”

 

_No way in hell._

 

She nods. “Yes. You ready?”

 

He smiles tightly. “Always am. Where were you last week?”

 

_Probably crying._

 

“Sick.” She pauses and then is hit with a casual stroke of genius. “Twenty-four hour bug.”

 

Remus freezes.

 

“What?” he nearly chokes. Elsea watches his already pale face turns nearly transparent. “What did you say?”

 

“I was sick,” Elsea says, watching him carefully. “Twenty-four hour bug. Maybe it’s like the sort you get all the time. Once a month, whatever.”

 

She flicks her wrist as if to show it’s no big deal, but she can see Remus literally having a panic attack in his own skin.

 

“Well, I’d better go see if Anya needs any help. Great to see you, Remus.” Elsea paints a smile on her face, a carefully constructed one, one just to show Remus that he can’t fuck with her anymore.

 

Archie is only a few meters away, wrapped in yellow and white streamers.

 

“Arch?”

 

“Do I look like Christmas tree?” he asks, waving his arms. “Anya said I do.”

 

“You guys are idiots,” Elsea says, even though Anya is nowhere to be found. “And I just realized I don’t think I can do this sober.”

 

Archie sniffs, adjusting a streamer over his shoulder like a sash. “You mean you didn’t smoke?”

 

“No,” Elsea snaps. It’s then she notices Archie’s eyes are completely bloodshot, and he is way too content to be at an anti-drug rally. “You bastard. You smoked with Maddox didn’t you?”

Archie’s face twists into an all-knowing smile. “Maddox, yes. I heard all about your snog fest too, by the way. He’s so chatty when he’s baked.”

 

“Fuck off,” Elsea cries, smacking his bicep. “Do you have any on you? Or have I got to go to the Greenhouses?”

 

“Do I have any on me?” Archie chortles, grabbing his stomach for humorous effect. “Why, Bitch Face, it’s as if all those days in the hospital wing have confused your image of me.”

 

Elsea glares. Archie subtly hands her a small High Rollers baggie.

 

“As you wish, Madame.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“By the way, I spy a little Lupin. He’s staring at your bum.”

 

Elsea groans, tempted to turn around.

 

“I know, I just spoke to him.”

 

Archie’s eyes widen tenfold. He rips the sash from his chest.

 

“Excuse me?” he prods, his stance aggressive. “You spoke to that motherfucker? _When_?”

 

“I said I just spoke to him,” Elsea responds, slipping the baggie into the pocket of her coat and rolls forward on the balls of her feet. “I attempted to be pleasant, thank you very much.”

 

“I don’t give a fuck if you’re pleasant,” Archie rolls his eyes, “I want you to roast that little bitch until he’s a Lupin-sized crisp. All charcoal-y and shit.”

 

“That’s lovely, thank you Archduke.” Elsea looks over his shoulder. “Care to join me behind the Boathouses for a quick, you know, before Anya expects us to parade around the castle?”

 

“Elsea please, if you’re going to proposition me for sex, just say it,” Archie says, heading towards the exit. “You know I love it when you talk dirty.”

 

“Hippogriffs rolling around in mud,” Elsea says, with a wink, and loops her arm through Archie’s. She can’t help this time as she glances over her shoulder to find Remus’ eyes trained right on her.

 

“That was terrible Elsea, what the hell?” Archie retorts from somewhere in the background. Holding eye contact with Remus is reminiscent of wrestling a feral cat into a cage. It’s fleeting and scary, but she can’t really stop now that she’s started. Staring at Remus is a sport, something she’s a bit rusty at now since she’s been avoiding him for weeks, but alas she’s a seasoned expert.

 

So Elsea bites down on her lip, pushes her hair over her shoulder, and just as she catches Remus’ eye she allows Archie to tug her out the side door and into the cold, November air. They hurry along the back of the courtyard to one of their usual smoke spots, a little alcove nestled in the castle walls. Archie pulls out his old piece, a purple and stars little glass number.

 

“You need a new one of those,” Elsea replies, nestling herself into her jacket and out of the wind. “It’s almost embarrassing.”

 

“This is Old Faithful,” Archie responds, packing the bowl like a slob. “Don’t knock a good thing.”

 

“I’m knocking a bad thing.”

 

“Boo.”

 

“Speed it up, I feel like Anya’s Doppler is going off.”

 

Archie sniffs. “Is that a muggle thing?”

 

“ _Yes_ , hurry up.”

 

Just as Archie raises the bowl to his lips, a loud cackle sounds from behind him. Panicked, Archie drops the bowl to the ground, spilling the unused weed onto the frosted grass.

 

“Idiot,” Elsea seethes, bending down to pick it up. “Why would you ever drop it? You have pockets.”

 

“I freaked out,” Archie argues. “Didn’t you hear that? Someone-”

 

The laugh sounds again, this time closer and high pitched. Elsea feels as if she’s in an actual horror film, shoveling the particles of marijuana into her hands and shoving them loosely into her pockets. It’s going to smell all day, she’s aware, but the only other option is to lose her product, and frankly, she’s not in the mood.

 

“You are the cheapest person I have ever met,” Archie whispers. “I am actually ashamed to be standing over you as you do this.”

 

“Piss off then. I have a business to uphold.”

 

Archie frowns, shaking his head. “ _Quiet_.”

 

Just as Elsea closes her mouth and gets to her feet, the source of the noise rounds the corner. It’s two short girls, barely taller than full-grown house elves, clad in Slytherin winter wear and rosy cheeks. The shorter of the two, who couldn’t be less familiar to Elsea, is holding a full-sized neon green bong.

 

“Oh no,” the other girl whispers in a heavy Scottish accent.

 

“Fuck.” The shorter one, which makes it all the more disturbing, drops the bong to the ground. Archie lets out an agonized groan. “Oh no, Shelley.”

 

“What’s going on here?” Elsea asks half in her prefect, half in her High Roller voice.

 

“How old are you?” Archie asks, bewildered.

 

The two girls don’t respond.

 

“Hello? Is there anything in there?” Elsea pries. She’s aware she’s being a bit cruel, but there is no way she sold any of these girls her product. They can’t be older than thirteen.

 

“Or has all of the marijuana you’ve been smoking melted your brain?”

 

“Shut up Archie, if you wanted to be a prefect you should’ve worked harder in potions,” Elsea snaps maliciously. Archie puts up both of his hands in defense. “How old you are you and what are your names? If you still have a problem answering me I hope you find speaking directly to the Headmaster a bit easier.”

 

“Shelley Pemberton,” the taller one with white blonde hair says.

 

“Dolly Witherspoon,” says the other. “We’re third years.”

 

Archie gasps dramatically. Elsea raises an eyebrow at him first, then the girls second. They look terrified, holding hands and shaking their heads. She’s never been one to have mercy on anyone, but these girls are _thirteen_. When Elsea was thirteen, she found Stan’s stash in his drawer and cried for two hours thinking he was on the path to destruction and shooting up heroin in the alleyways with the rest of Britain’s finest. They should be getting sugar highs from drinking soda. It’s plain wrong. It’s the reason Elsea’s number one rule is not to sell to anyone below year five.

 

Something is seriously wrong.

 

“Fifty points from Slytherin,” Elsea says flatly. Dolly gasps. “That’ll be a hell of a lot less if you give me the name of who you received the weed from and give me all of it.”

 

“We don’t snitch,” Dolly says, terrified. “Snitches get hit.”

 

“How many more points off do you want?” Elsea threatens, narrowing her eyes.

 

Shelley, who has been staring at her feet the entire time, looks up with tears down her cheeks.

 

“Here,” she whimpers, handing her a small bag. “We got it from the High Roller.”

 

“No you didn’t,” Elsea says. Archie furrows a worried brow. “This isn’t the signature bag. I’ve been alongside S.A.P.S. investigating the High Roller since the beginning. This is someone new.”

 

Shelley is crying hysterically.

 

“Els,” Archie says quietly, “I have a really bad feeling about this.”

 

Elsea ignores him, stepping towards the bong and picking it up off the ground. She can’t believe she’s doing this but it’s held high above her head, ready to be smashed into the ground.

 

“Please don’t,” Dolly says. “I took that from an older kid and if it gets smashed up I’ll be getting in more trouble than you know. _Please_.”

 

“Who’d you get the weed from?”

 

“Please, Elsea.”

 

She’s honestly flattered they know who she is, but it’s not the time to register it.

 

“ _Please_.”

 

“Just the name,” Elsea says, kinder. “All I need is the name and you can take the bong back and go home.”

 

It’s a stalemate. Archie is watching interestedly, sniffling every few seconds. The girls blink, and then, shockingly, it’s Dolly who breaks.

 

“Here,” she says, shaking her head and extending her hand, “I didn’t meet the guy, it was a drop sort of thing. We left some money in a changing location and the next day the baggie was there. I swear, _I swear_ , that’s all we know.”

 

Elsea carefully takes what Dolly is holding. It’s a small white piece of cardstock.

 

“A fucking business card?” Elsea gasps, looking down at it. “You two can go now.”

 

Like clockwork, Shelley grabs the bong from her hand and the two younger girls scamper off in silence. Archie leans over her shoulder and reads out loud.

 

“The Red Eye?” Archie reads, snorting. “What the bloody hell is this shit?”

 

Elsea reads the smaller text. “Providing all your herbal needs at a fair price? What the fuck? What the fuck is this? Archie? _ARCHIE_?”

 

“Why are you yelling at me?” he argues. “I’d never come up with a name like that.”

 

“I know I _just_.” Elsea nearly stops breathing. “Someone else. There is someone else selling to people at Hogwarts. Slytherins. Under thirteen. My market is being jeopardized.”

 

“No, no, you’re fine. S.A.P.S. is probably more of an issue than… The Red Eye.” Archie insists, shivering at the new term.

 

“Red Eye,” Elsea repeats, staring down at the card. Her fingers are freezing and she’s shaking a bit. “Fucking hell. I can’t believe this is happening. Why can’t they just wait eight bloody months until I graduate, huh? Why can’t they just fucking chill?”

 

“Maybe we should?” Archie offers. “You picked up some of the bits, didn’t you?”

 

Elsea glares at him. “Well I sure as hell don’t want to smoke now.”

 

“I think if anything, now is when you should,” Archie argues. Elsea stares at him and his brilliant, comforting face and sighs.

 

“You’re right. Set me up.”

 

-.-

 

Remus has come to the conclusion that he bloody hates S.A.P.S., and that he’s starting to really hate Anya Darzi too.

 

This girl, this relatively average looking girl with a shitty personality and a Napoleon Complex, stands on her soapbox and screeches about drugs and madmen, all the while her best friends are dealing and smoking the very thing she despises most. She’s rude and condescending, mistrusting and easily angered, and not to mention, she’s been stringing Sirius along for far too long now.

 

“Sirius,” Anya says as the lot of them gather in front of the Great Hall steps. Anya’s decided this is the first place for their Students Against Pot Smoking first bi-annual protest march. The crowd is larger than he has expected, though, Remus reckons some of them are actually just stoned idiots following the herd. He spots Fernando and Jason lingering in the back. “Could you maybe take the rear, please?”

 

“What for?” Sirius asks, hands in his pockets, looking like the picture of cool. He’s got a sign leaning against the wall next to him, _Weed Like You to Quit._ “I thought I’d take the front, you know, put a face to the movement. I could have been a model, mind you.”

 

Anya looks like she’s trying not to barf all over him. “It’s just, you’re so tall. You’d round out the back nicely. I trust you to keep up the stragglers.”

 

It’s a bold faced lie, Remus notes. He knows Anya is just embarrassed.

 

Sirius just shrugs it off. “Whatever you say, Captain.”

 

As Anya goes about trying to control her apparent masses, Sirius turns to Remus and smiles like a true git.

 

“Did you see that self control?” Sirius actually chirps. “Didn’t make one joke about taking the rear.”

 

Remus fakes a smile and pats his friend on the shoulder. “You’re truly becoming an adult, mate.”

 

The scurrying of footsteps announces the apparent return of Elsea and Archie, who, Remus notes immediately, look impossibly stoned.

 

“Sorry we’re late!” Elsea cries, stumbling to a stop by grabbing ahold of Owen McNeilson’s toned bicep. “Prefect stuff. Archie was helping out. Being a pal. He’s such a pal. Owen, have you been working out?”

 

“Pal.” Archie giggles. Anya decides to ignore them. She’s far too wrapped up in being a controlling dictator, Remus thinks. “Paaaaaaaaal.”

 

He also thinks Elsea looks the best she’s ever looked today. He doesn’t even know why, but she just does.

 

Archie then turns to him, throwing him a dirty look that could’ve been lethal if it weren’t for the fact that he is so obviously stoned.

 

Remus rolls his eyes, looking at the ceiling because he honestly doesn’t think there is anything else appealing to stare at. He does feel eyes on him, however. Knowing if they were Elsea’s or Archie’s would be helpful, especially since only an hour and a half ago the heaviest shade that had ever been thrown was tossed directly at him by the hands of Elsea Holmes. She could know he’s a werewolf, which isn’t comforting. She could also just be angry at him for being the biggest tool of all time.

 

For some reason the thought of the first thing isn’t all the bad. No, Remus is not the type to be telling everyone (or anyone, for the matter) about the fact that he’s a werewolf. Elsea isn’t everyone, though. Elsea, he’s come to realize, is a hell of a lot more to him than he’d ever thought. He’d prefer her not know, but then again she’s not going to tell anyone. She’s not the type.

 

And if anyone can keep a dirty secret for an extended period of time, it’s definitely Elsea Holmes.

 

So he trusts her now, he guesses.

 

“Alright, let’s go people,” Lily announces, holding her own sign in the air. It just has _Say no to drugs!_ painted on the front in big red letters. Not the most creative of Anya, but Remus is thankful for that. “Remember, we are the change we want to see in the world.”

 

Remus can’t help but exchange a glance with Elsea. It’s an all-too-familiar gesture; the _Lily Evans is an obnoxious arsehole_ look they’ve shared countless times before. He feels a jolt in his stomach and a sudden need to be closer to her, to ask her how she’s been and to never again leave his side. It’s all too terrifying and all too wonderful at the same time.

 

But it’s Elsea who smiles and saunters over, knocking her hips against his. He can smell the marijuana in her hair, but for once, he actually really likes it. “Remus,” she declares, in her best Lily Evans voice, “you are the future. Be the future.”

 

He smirks. “Elsea,” he adds, “make your life count.”

 

“Please, weed like you to quit.”

 

Elsea snorts, it’s a gross sound but it makes Remus feel sentimental.

 

After that, the air grows stale. There’s too much to talk about, it’s apparent in every way. Elsea knows it too, as her expression hardens and her eyes focus somewhere else. Remus blinks a few times. It’s not the time, is it? To talk about everything.

 

Elsea sneezes.

 

“Bless you,” Remus says.

 

Elsea shrugs. “Thanks.”

 

Okay. So it’s not the time.

 

Nervously, Elsea starts to giggle. Remus remembers she’s blazed, which makes things a little better. He remembers the first time they met, on the train, Elsea’s eyes filled with visine because of _allergies_. Things were so simple back then.

 

“HERE WE GO!” Anya screeches. Elsea and Remus exchange a glance, neither of them has a sign, so they just bump elbows as they shove their hands into the pockets of their jackets and fall silently in line.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving to all those that celebrate. We're very thankful for all our readers. Love!


	18. Hold Back the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wow, I’m detecting a bit of hostility,” Archie raises his eyebrows, “perhaps you could benefit from taking a motherfucking chill pill.”

“Elsea,” Anya says in her mother voice. “You haven’t touched your rice pilaf.”

 

Archie, who is sitting next to Anya with a mouth full of chicken, nods his head in agreement.

 

“She’s right,” he says, spewing the smallest amount of chicken into his glass of milk. It’s utterly disgusting. “And you love rice pilaf.”

 

Elsea narrows her eyes, feeling as if she’s in some alternate universe in which Archie and Anya are her parents. This makes her sick. Well, sicker. The fact that she has her first patrol in over a month with Remus Lupin tonight is probably what is causing her sudden loss of appetite. It has to be abnormal, to be so sickly nervous over a _boy_. _Wolf boy_. Or _werewolf_. _Whatever_.

 

Perhaps the worst part is that Elsea doesn’t even care. Werewolves can kill; they are more than capable. They can scratch their best friend’s eye out like it’s nothing. Elsea is practically Remus’ worst enemy; he probably wants to gouge her eyes out regardless of his abilities. Yet for some reason she doesn’t care. He’s been a werewolf this entire time, and despite his best efforts to hide it, he can be quite sweet at times.

 

“I’m not hungry and you two can fuck the right off.” Elsea stabs her fork into the chicken breast and doesn’t bother to even glare at them.

 

“Wow, I’m detecting a bit of hostility,” Archie raises his eyebrows, “perhaps you could benefit from taking a _motherfucking chill pill_.”

 

“I’m going to stab your eye out,” Elsea cries, yanking her fork from the chicken and leveling it at him.

 

“Alright children,” Anya snaps, putting her hands up. Elsea lowers the fork. “That’s enough.”

 

Elsea drops her weapon, unsure of when she started taking orders from Anya, but that’s not the most pressing matter at the moment. Remus is across the room eating with Peter, his back facing her. Her stomach twists and turns and she’s suddenly reminded that despite all these nervous feelings about patrol, she has these nervous feelings about just being around him. Because she likes him. She really likes him. And she fucking hates that.

 

“Sorry,” Archie settles back into his seat, clearly over the little spat, “I’ve been sober for three days now and I’m just… _unsettled_.”

 

Anya looks at him and smiles. “I’m so proud of you. Look how much _clearer_ your mind is. Three days ago you would have launched into a duel in the middle of the Great Hall.”

 

Elsea doesn’t have the energy to correct Anya; if anything High Archie would have just laughed and patted Elsea’s back instead of challenging her. She wants stoned Archie. _He’s_ not Anya’s little bitch.

 

“Ha, yeah.” Archie nods but catches Elsea’s eye with a look that says _please can we go smoke I’m dying here._

 

Elsea shakes her head. She can’t go to patrol high. Not this time. She’ll do something stupid like make out with Remus or light him on fire or something.

 

“You know what would be fucking hilarious?” Elsea asks Anya suggestively. “If you and Archie were to smoke together. Without me.”

 

Anya flares her nostrils.

 

_“What?”_

 

“Brilliant.” Archie sits up, grinning. “That sounds brilliant, actually. It’s a date”

 

“Ugh,” Elsea moans. “If only I could watch.”

 

Anya looks between the two of them and Elsea can see the terror on her face. She’s caught between killing Elsea for suggesting something so ridiculous and Archie for his actual interest. Elsea knows it’s shitty, backing Anya into a corner like this, but she’s so bloody tired of Anya’s holier-than-thou attitude.

 

“Shall we?” Archie asks, standing up because he’s already got his mindset. Elsea carefully disguises her smirk with a tight-lipped smile.

 

“Wait, wait. Right now?” Anya asks, panicked. “I’m leader of SAPS. I can’t just be running around _high on weed_.”

 

Archie sits back down. “Oh Anya, I’m far too lazy to run around when I’m high.”

 

Elsea snorts.

 

“I was speaking figuratively,” Anya hisses, searching the room for wandering eyes. “This could really ruin my rep, Arch. I won’t be credible anymore and I can’t lose my place now that the movement has really taken off.”

 

Elsea is one second away from puking her three bites of chicken all over the table.

 

“It’s a Friday evening. What have you got to do besides homework that you’ve already completed?” Archie rolls his eyes. “It’ll be fun. Do you always have to be so uptight? It’s not like I’ll tell anyone. We hang out enough for it to not look suspicious.”

 

“I know but it’s the _principle_ -”

 

“- _fine_ ,” Archie cuts her off with a sigh. He wouldn’t have anyone to smoke with tonight without her. “Fine. It’s not like we’re taking ludes. But whatever, you do you, I’ll just do something quieter, like meth.”

 

Elsea stares blankly as Archie begins shoveling food in his mouth despondently. Anya watches his every move with an emotion mixed between anger and want.

 

“Fine,” Anya says, finally giving in. “But just a little bit. I don’t want you to get too high.”

 

Archie laughs. “You’re hilarious.”

 

“Really, let’s go.”

 

Archie nearly sputters all of his food out into Elsea’s face. He blushes, oddly enough, and bursts up from his seat. This time his plate actually goes flying onto the bench next to Elsea. But she remains stoic, watching.

 

“Alright,” Archie shouts, a little too loudly. “I mean, hell yeah. We just gotta stop by my room to get my stuff and-”

 

“-keep it down, would you?” Anya hisses at him. And then, with one last glare to Elsea, the two of them disappear out of the Great Hall. Elsea, pleased with herself for a few moments longer, revels in her success.

 

But then she remembers she has to report for patrol with Remus in an hour. So she quickly packs up her things and heads to the Greenhouses for some well-needed stress therapy.

 

-.-

 

Like any good prefect Remus is seven minutes early to patrol. Strangely enough, when he arrives Elsea is also seven minutes early.

 

They stand a few feet away from each other, hands in the pockets of their winter robes. Elsea has her hair twisted back in a complicated braid like usual, her lips stained a light shade of pink. She looks beautiful, like she always does. Remus naturally feels like a lump of coal with his hand-me-down robes and James’ old stocking cap pulled over his criminally messy hair.

 

“Hi,” Elsea says, finally. Her voice is breathy and light and he feels a familiar tug in his stomach. _All her moves are calculated_ , he reminds himself, _she’s trying to ruin you_.

 

“Good evening,” Remus tries, keeping his voice level. Merlin, he’s trying way too hard to be indifferent. So he adds, “How was your day?”

 

“Oh fine,” Elsea waves it off like she’s just an average Hogwardian student, “nothing out of the ordinary. Yours?”

 

“The same.” Remus nods.

 

The awkward silence returns.

 

“What’d you get on the Potions exam?” Remus asks. Lame, lame. First patrol sort of a question and the term is nearly over.

 

“I did okay,” Elsea says, though it sounds more like a question.

 

“Managed an Exceeds Expectations,” Remus says, and then realizes it sounds like he’s bragging. “Just barely, uh, though.”

 

Elsea nods. “Same. Congrats.”

 

“I didn’t ask you that just to tell you about my good grade though,” Remus says jokingly. It sounds terribly stiff, however.

 

“You didn’t?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Did you ask me that because you have nothing else to say?”

 

There it is.

 

“No.”

 

“And why do you keep saying ‘though?’ Are you on a bet?”

 

“I don’t know? Why are you so aggressive?” Remus asks, already close to heaving. “We just started this patrol can’t be just be normal for five bloody seconds?”

 

He’s having flashbacks to the first patrol when things went to hell in a matter of seconds. They’re squabbling and it’s uncomfortable, and honestly, Remus just really wants this to get over with.

 

That, or he wants to snog her senseless. It’s all very confusing.

 

Elsea scoffs. “That was not normal, Remus. That was fake.”

 

Remus nods his head. What does she want, then? “So what do you propose?” he challenges, stopping short down the three feet of hall they barely managed to check. “Silence?”

 

“Let’s just finish the grounds quickly. It’s cold as hell.”

 

Elsea scoffs again, and says something under her breath that sounds like ‘ _full of shit_ ’

 

Remus chooses to ignore it and focus on how many tiles are on the floor or how Elsea’s heels sound when they click against the ground. Silence it is. He didn’t plan on that happening, frankly. He thought that maybe he could just act like nothing was wrong and skate on by until next week. Then they’d just have this routine built in which they ignore their issues and make fun of Lily Evans and everything is sunny.

 

They push open the doors to the grounds and the cold air rushes against his cheeks. His hat nearly falls off as Elsea hurries down the steps, pulls her wand from her pocket, and heads to check the courtyard.

 

“Lily bedazzled James’ eye patch today,” Remus tells her, attempt number two.

 

Elsea doesn’t even crack a smile. Rather she blatantly ignores him and suddenly he feels like he’s Peter trying to chat up Alice Hackney when that used to be a thing.

 

So he keeps going.

 

“Pink rhinestones and glitter glue. It was done by hand, the muggle way.”

 

Nothing. Elsea walks out of the courtyard and heads back inside.

 

“He loves it. He’s worn it all day and he’s going to wear to class on Monday, even when his eye is supposed to be healed.”

 

At that Elsea looks up at him, eyebrows raised, just inside the doors.

 

“Hey, what did happen to his eye exactly, Remus?” she asks, smirking.

 

And just like that, he knows.

 

He’s not sure how she managed to figure it out, but she did it. God, his skin is crawling. The only people that he ever told were James, Sirius, and Peter. Everyone else who knew had to know for administrative purposes or were close relatives. Remus chest feels tight, like he might be having a heart attack or something way, way worse.

 

How much does she know? Does she hate him even more?

 

He remembers Willa’s head laying on his bare chest, wispy brown hair and blue eyes destroyed by every foul word that came from her mouth. It was moments after The Big Moment, they were just talking about what they liked, and what they didn’t, for future reference. Remus wasn’t even the one to bring up animagi and werewolves.

 

_“Disgusting creatures,” she said quietly. “Hard no.”_

 

_And then even more quietly. “I’d rather die.”_

 

Elsea is still staring at him, there.

 

“I have to vomit,” Remus says, his eyes stinging.

 

Her jaw drops slightly, but she nods her head.

 

“O-okay. We’re almost outside if you can make-”

 

Remus is running. The ground under his feet is hard and cool, the rubber soles of his shoes squeak in defiance. It’s the most bloody dramatic thing he’s ever done, but there are only so many times in his life that his reality ever really attacks. He feels rabid, like he’s about to transform. But it’s a new moon and he can’t see anything in the sky but heavy, purple clouds. It has to be a dream.

 

“Remus holy _shit_ ,” Elsea says from the archway outside.

 

Remus pukes his dinner on the grass, eyes watering and cheeks red with humiliation. He deserves this, he assumes. You can only be so emotionally constipated until you reach a catharsis. He’s tasting brussel sprouts twice tonight.

 

He feels a hand on his back.

 

“Tell me you don’t have food poisoning,” Elsea mumbles.

 

Remus turns around, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. “Not funny.”

 

Elsea hardens immediately, all traces of pity disappearing from her face.

 

“If you can make jokes, I can make jokes.”

 

“Not right now.”

 

“Fine.” Elsea cuts, folding her arms. “What happened to James’ eye?”

 

Remus almost loses it again, but this time, he holds himself together. “Elsea, you wouldn’t be asking the question unless you knew the answer.”

 

She shrugs. “I want to hear you say it.”

 

“I didn’t have to hear you say anything.”

 

“Yes, but you attacked me.”

 

Remus flinches at her word choice. It floods back to him again, attacking James, thinking about all those times he imagined attacking Willa by accident. Merlin, it’s awful. So awful.

 

He turns around and vomits again.

 

Elsea is still standing there, arms crossed over her chest, a worried expression on her face as he wipes the back of his hand along his mouth. She’s still standing there, still Elsea, still _not running_ as he straightens up and faces her.

 

“Why aren’t you running to tell everyone there’s a monster in the school?” Remus asks. It’s childish, really, but it’s all he can think. He has to be petty because he can’t say anything else.

 

She scoffs. “You know very well _why_.”

 

“Know what?”

 

“I’d never do that,” Elsea says. “I’m not an asshole and _seriously_ you’re not a monster.”

 

“You saw what I did to James’ eye,” Remus says. “You know what I’m capable of, and it’s a hell of a lot more than that.”

 

Elsea hesitates for the first time, unfolding her arms. “You’re still not a monster.”

 

Remus raises his voice slightly. “ _Yes_ , I am. You don’t get it, do you?”

 

“No, no,” Elsea steps towards him boldly and shakes her head. “You don’t get it. A monster wouldn’t do what you did to James because monsters don’t have friends, they don’t have empathy, and they definitely don’t vomit from emotional trauma. You-know-who is a monster, and he is a wizard. You understand?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Monsters are evil and you’re not. Remus, you’re good. You’re fine.”

 

“Monsters are complicated, they’re not black and white. It’s not either evil or good.” Remus just glares at her; he wants her to _see_ , he wants her to _realize_ how bad he is. “This part of me is okay. Albeit a bit of a prick once in a while,” Elsea nods her agreement, “but that other part, that’s bad. That’s soulless evil. That’s a monster.”

 

“Oh don’t wax poetics about monsters at me,” Elsea groans, rolling her eyes. He doesn’t understand how she’s taking this so trivially. “If you’re a monster then I’m an malicious mob boss out to destroy today’s youth.”

 

“I can’t disagree with that,” Remus retorts.

 

Elsea glares at him. “Don’t be an idiot.”

 

The corner of Remus’ mouth quirks upward involuntarily. This isn’t funny; this isn’t supposed to be funny.

 

“How’s your stomach?” Elsea asks then, tilting her head to the side. “You think we can go back in and finish rounds? And maybe talk about something serious without screaming?”

 

Remus doesn’t respond right away, because he’s not sure if they could actually manage. Explosive personalities, big issues, emotions and what not. Remus isn’t much of a talker.

 

“It won’t kill you,” Elsea says. “And it’s a lot better than retching on your boots.”

 

Nodding, Remus steps away from his mess and just a tad closer to Elsea.

 

“How about we forget about the rounds for once and just talk it out?”

 

She smiles.

 

“I was hoping you’d suggest that.”

 

-.-

 

Elsea leads them to the astronomy tower because it’s the only place she can think of that’s both comfortable and private. While the castle is nearly empty (and it’s their job to make sure of it), she knows they won’t be disturbed if they light a single candle. It’s a sort of “people are using this place to shag, you idiots” signal to the rest of the rule breakers.

 

“The Candle? Really?” Remus asks.

 

“It’s not a presumption,” Elsea says quickly. “I’m just trying to ward off any stragglers, dumbarse.”

 

“We’re prefects, we can ward anyone off by looking at them.”

 

“I’m just taking precautions. Now sit, we have a lot to discuss.”

 

Elsea pushes Remus into the room, smiling inwardly as he accepts the gesture rather than cringing away from it like he usually would. They sit next to each other, backs against the stone wall, bottoms on the icy ground. Elsea shivers at the feel of it, bunching her coat beneath her to make more of a cushion. She can feel Remus watching, his gaze empty and unassuming as he subconsciously bites his nails.

 

“Don’t do that,” Elsea snaps, once she’s comfortable. “Archie always does and it drives me mad.”

 

Remus shrugs away from his nails. “It’s not a habit, I don’t know why it’s happening right now.”

 

“Don’t let it happen again.”

 

“Alright, I won’t.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Good.”

 

Strange.

 

Elsea clucks her tongue; she doesn’t really know where to begin. Should she just ask for the information she doesn’t know? Remus is looking at her still, waiting for her to speak intently. It makes her a bit nervous, honestly. For the first time she has emotional confrontation stage fright.

 

“Elsea,” Remus starts, breaking the silence. “I have to ask, if we’re really doing this… how the hell did you become the Hogwarts drug lord?”

 

Elsea lets out the large sigh, half relief half wanting to die. Well. It’s not a story she tells everyday - or ever, for the matter - but it’s important. Intricate too, long and intricate.

 

She’s a little afraid.

 

“You sure you want to hear it?” Elsea asks. It’s not rhetorical.

 

“I’ve only been dying to know since I found out, so yes,” Remus quips. He grins, then, and for once it reaches his eyes.

 

Well, Elsea can’t say no to that.

 

“Alright, let me just start out by saying I didn’t plan to be who I am today. I didn’t make the name the High Roller, I didn’t have a game plan, I didn’t even have multiple dealers until last year. When I started smoking with my older brother Stan, we decided to use my Herbology expertise to… enhance effects. Turns out, I could make a pretty decent strain of weed. When I came back to school my fifth year, Stan put some in my bag for me just incase ‘the zards couldn’t throw down.’”

 

Remus nods. “Right.”

 

“So I asked Anya first, obviously, if she wanted to try it and she said no, but Archie Blackwater overheard me in the common room and said he had always wanted to try pot since he started dabbling in psychedelic rock, or something. Since I was pretty lonely, I let him join and soon it became kind of a weekly thing. We’d go to the Forbidden Forest to this little clearing, light up a bowl, and get belligerent. When we ran out, Stan sent more. After a while Archie invited Maddox along, who was seeing Hadley at the time, and I honestly couldn’t tell you how Xavier and Webb got involved… but we were a crew. Then the war started, my parents moved to America, Stan couldn’t support himself, and I started selling. And that’s how I became Elsea High Roller? More like Die Roller Holmes.”

 

Remus laughs, actually laughs, before pulling his knees to his chest. “So does Anya know about this?”

 

“Nope,” Elsea says, smacking her lips together. “She is a sap through and through.”

 

“That’s terrible.” Remus remarks, shaking his head. “Do you ever intend on telling her?”

 

“I don’t think so,” Elsea mumbles, guilty. “It’s not going to be important after we graduate. My career ends the last day of school. I don’t want to be a drug dealer, Remus. I just am.”

 

“You’re terrible.”

 

“You think I don’t know that?”

 

Leaning his head back against the wall in a way that’s almost irresistibly attractive, Remus asks, “You do kind of enjoy it though, don’t you?”

 

Elsea bites her lip. It’s a loaded question, whether or not she takes actual pleasure in being the High Roller or not. She’s unsure of what to say. If she says she doesn’t, that’s not only a lie, but an obvious one. If she does admit the truth, Remus will ask why, and Elsea can’t answer that question without a serious self-evaluation.

 

“If I say yes will you think I’m a freak?” Elsea decides, raising one shoulder.

 

Remus snorts, looking from her to the ceiling. “I don’t think I’m in any position to call you a freak, if we’re being honest here.”

 

“I already said you’re not a freak.”

 

“Monster, actually,” Remus corrects. “And I just projectile vomited for no reason, so there’s that.”

 

“Hey, I vomited when I found out too,” Elsea says. “If that makes you feel better.”

 

Remus shakes his head.

 

“It doesn’t. But thanks.”

 

“It wasn’t out of offense, it just was that things were finally going to start making sense, for once. Just so you know.” Elsea explains. It’s clear that Remus is pretty insecure and touchy when you peel back that first layer of angst. Figuring out how to navigate these new grounds isn’t what Elsea would call easy. However, something about Remus seems wonderfully effortless now, almost light. This must be what James and the rest of the crew sees. A carefree, boundless Remus Lupin.

 

“My Grandma didn’t visit me for six years after she found out,” Remus says, matter-of-fact. “She’s a really, really conservative wizard. I think it was really because she just didn’t like my mum.”

 

Finally, something. Elsea folds her hands on her lap. “No offense to your Gram but that’s pretty fucking dumb.”

 

“Yeah, but she pays _a lot_ of the bills.” Remus scoffs. “A lot.”

 

Elsea nods. “Do you talk to her?”

 

“Not really. She’s kind of irrelevant.”

 

“She’s your grandma.”

 

“Eh.”

 

Remus shrugs, Elsea laughs in disbelief.

 

“How did you even find out?” Remus asks. “Because you’re the first person to ever know without me telling them.”

 

Elsea smirks, raising a brow. “That’s confidential information.”

 

“Me being a werewolf is confidential information.”

 

“Not anymore.”

 

“Tell me how you found out,” Remus demands, narrowing his eyes. “I feel violated enough as it is.”

 

Elsea laughs a little bit too loud.

 

“Now you know how _I_ felt,” she accuses, “when you literally screamed at me on the grounds for no reason.”

 

“I said I was sorry about that.”

 

“Yeah. To Archie. Thanks.”

 

“Well you were M.I.A.”

 

“Thanks for that again.”

 

“ _Elsea_.”

 

“What? I’m just really thankful,” she says, batting her lashes. “Besides, do you honestly think that I’m gonna just let you live that down? I know you probably would’ve died before ever telling me the truth but that definitely doesn’t justify being a complete and utter arsehole to me for a whole month, but it’s fine. I’ll get over it.”

 

Remus stares, and offers a flat, “Will you really?”

 

Elsea locks eyes with him, nodding solemnly.

 

“If you make it worth it.”

 

She’s not ready to tell him that she really is over it now, or that she’s been over it since the moment she found out. It’s a trial period, from now till the sun shines through the tower. Is it possible to be open with each other? Fully and feel content about it? There is only one way to know for sure, and that’s to do it.

 

A breeze drifts through the astronomy tower as Elsea pulls her coat closer. She shifts slightly to the left, not really even thinking about it, and her shoulder brushes against Remus. From the corner of her eye she can see the corner of his lip twitch upwards.

 

“I can try to make it worth your while,” Remus says, his voice quiet but light.

 

“Then it’s a deal,” Elsea replies, turning to look at him and feeling, at once, suddenly at peace. It doesn’t matter that some other competitor is trying to move into her market, that Stan is slowly losing the house, and that Anya is starting to drive Elsea into madness. All that matters is that she and Remus are suddenly okay, falling into a mutual agreement that only the two of them can ever really understand.

 

“So, how’d you become a werewolf?” Elsea asks. She takes a risk, leaning her arm and shoulder against Remus’. He doesn’t flinch, but he also doesn’t react.

 

“Long story,” he says, sighing.

 

Elsea feels a spike of rage.

 

“Don’t freak out,” Remus adds quickly. “That wasn’t an excuse, it was a warning. It’s ridiculously long if you want the full details.”

 

“I want the full details,” Elsea replies. “Obviously.”

 

“Obviously,” Remus repeats, before diving in. “Okay. Before I was born my father had this job in the ministry in which he would lobby for magical creatures rights. Like goblins, trolls, centaurs, house elves - pretty much any able minded creatures who had the intelligence of a wizard but were treated like lesser beings because they’re anatomically different.”

 

Elsea blinks. It’s strangely hot when Remus drops words like ‘anatomically.’ He continues.

 

“Early on in his career he decided that he should also advocate werewolves, encourage them to be accepted among their peers at work and school and what not. So for his campaign, he needed a face of someone who was a werewolf but also high functioning and respectable. My father had heard through a friend of his about this bloke named Fenrir Greyback, who was not only a wicked good wizard but also a werewolf with a clean record. Soon enough, my father had tracked him down, found his home, and was at his door with papers, ideas and the works, pretty much ready to make him the face of the werewolf campaign. When the door opened, he was greeted with what Pops still calls today, ‘the most foul stench he had ever inhaled.’ Almost puked on the spot, that disgusting.”

 

Elsea is a good listener. She gasps at all the right times, but mostly keeps nodding, fully enthralled. She wants to be here for Remus; he’s sharing something so personal she wonders if more than eight people in the entire world know the story. He’s trusting her with this secret, this big secret that could ruin him. He trusts her. She wants it to be worth it.

 

“Greyback was not who my father thought he was in the slightest. He was rude, unarmed, and there was something just incredibly off about his entire home. My Dad never told me exactly what, I think it sort of makes him too sick to think about it, but after he left he went straight to the Auror Department in the ministry to tell them that this man should not be free to walk the streets. He joined them on the investigation and they discovered this… underground lair? I guess that’s what you could call it, an underground lair. With a bunch of missing children from the past sitting in cages, starved, and fully developed werewolves.”

 

“Wait,” Elsea stops him. She feels a bit sick, especially when she imagines Remus as one of those poor children. “You were one of the kids?”

 

“Oh God no,” Remus denies, shaking his head. “I wasn’t even born yet. They tried to arrest him but Fenrir transformed and got away with ease. Dunno why they tried to find him on a full moon, those bloody idiots.”

 

Elsea nods solemnly.

 

“My father didn’t see Fenrir again for years, not until after I was born.”

 

“How long?” Elsea asks.

 

Remus shifts uncomfortably on the ground, his jaw tightening as he swallows a gulp of air. “When I was five I used to sleep with the window open. This one day, sometime in January, my father nailed it shut. I asked him why and he wouldn’t tell me, so I just sort of let it go. For months and months after that, especially at night, I would see this _face_ in the window. Just this unkempt man, balding, but terribly muscular, staring at me like I was a meal. I didn’t get it at the time, whenever I would tell my parents they wouldn’t freak out or anything - they’d just tell me to sleep in their bed for the night and my father would go and check it out. It was always, _always_ nothing...The last time I saw the man he smiled at me and mouthed, ‘open up.’ For some reason, I walked over the window and tried to loosen it, like really tried, but it didn’t work. When I looked back up he was gone, and after that I thought he was my guardian angel.”

 

“Oh _Remus_ ,” Elsea says sadly.

 

Remus smiles weakly. “I know I was an idiot. Two weeks later I didn’t see him, but he saw me. He crashed through my window. It was loud, so it didn’t take long for my father to wake up and get his wand out, but it took just long enough for Fenrir Greyback to sink his teeth so deep into my shoulder that I passed out. I don’t remember what happened, but I woke up in St. Mungos with my blood _burning_. It was the worst pain I’ve ever felt, still to this day. They had to keep knocking me out because I wouldn’t stop screaming. This went on for three days.”

 

Remus pauses, scratching the back of his neck and looking down at Elsea. “And that’s how I became a werewolf.”

 

Elsea is speechless, so he continues.

 

“Worst part, despite the transformations and blind, animalistic rage, is the fact that they still haven’t caught Greyback. He’s still out there, and sometimes I think I see him if I glance really quickly in a mirror, or the reflection of a window, just giving me that hungry gaze.”

 

Elsea shivers. Anything, and everything, Remus went through was not only completely unfair, but horror-movie worthy. The tower never felt so cold.

 

“I think I could definitely fight him off now,” Remus adds, buoyant again. “For sure, yeah. He’s older and I’m a better wizard. So I’m never really as worried as much as I’m… on guard, I guess.”

 

Out of nowhere, or at least, in Elsea’s perspective, Remus slides his hand over hers.

 

“How does it feel to change?” Elsea asks, quietly, enjoying the warm feeling of Remus’ fingers over hers.

 

“Oh, horrible,” he tells her, looping their pinkies together. Elsea is frozen. “It’s a lot of stretching, bones, jaw, and _skin-_ skin is definitely the worst. Imagine thick needles of hair poking through every pore and follicle on your skin from the inside out. That bad.”

 

“Your head?” Elsea wonders aloud, a little bit brain dead. Everything Remus has said in the past twenty minutes makes her want to wrap him in a warm blanket and hug him until his problems disappear.

 

“Depends. If I’m with my friends, it’s usually fine, they kind of even me out when I’m transformed. If I’m alone, or going through something particularly troubling, then it gets hard. It’s just an all-encompassing fury, I’m angry and I just want to tear the world apart. There’s no regard for who I am, or was when I was being me, I just become an unbiased destruction machine. A killer, perhaps.”

 

“Is there anything, though? Like a conscious in the back of your mind?” Elsea prods. Her and Remus are holding hands fully, now, bodies pressed together side by side. “Are you in there? If you know what I mean.”

 

“Yes,” Remus admits. “That’s the worst part. It’s like I’m watching it happen, but I’m too weak to control it, and I can get knocked out real quick if I don’t do anything about it. It’s all about the transformation, if I hold on to my sanity while I’m changing, and talk through it with James, Sirius, or Peter, I’m fine. If it’s only me I get lost until the moon goes down.”

 

Elsea nods, looking at their hands. She hates herself for wondering, but she can’t help it. Did Willa know?

 

“I’m sorry,” Elsea says, looking up at Remus. His eyes look brilliant, lively. “This whole thing is just brutally fucked up and unfair. It shouldn’t have happened to you, it’s not your fault. You shouldn’t have to go through it.”

 

Remus just shrugs. “It is what it is, now. I hate that side of me but it will always be there, so I have to live accordingly. That’s why I’m who I am, Elsea. I’m dangerous, and not in a fun way.”

 

Elsea nods, expecting Remus to pull his hand away, but he doesn’t. Rather, he squeezes her hand, asking a question. It takes her a while to realize what it is, but when she does, she feels as if a part of her is melting.

 

_Are you sure?_

 

She squeezes back.

 

_Never been surer of anything else._

 

They sit together talking until the sun comes up and the wind blows out the lone candle.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays everyone! Let us know what you think! :)


	19. Take a Chance on Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Isn’t it funny,” Peter notes, snagging the bottle of wine from Remus and leaning against the bed stand, “I’m getting the most arse out of the four of us?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Lots of rape culture/"getting some" sort of themes in the Marauders dialogue today. As well as a vague rape joke. Jordan and I are very conscious of our language (or at least try to be), but that doesn't mean the Marauders are the same. Let us know if anything makes you uncomfortable. 
> 
> Sorry for taking for fucking ever. But we're still in love with Elsea and the gang, and we fully intend to finish this up. Enjoy!

“So you’re sure?” Archie asks, eyebrows raised disapprovingly as he takes a hit from Elsea’s trusty first bowl of her own. She’s decided before breaking the news that her and Remus are back on (in her head at least), buttering Archie up would be essential to earning his stamp of approval. Nostalgia works like a charm, usually, according to Paisley’s Women’s Health magazines. And based on Archie’s recent and rather strong reactions to seeing or hearing Remus Lupin’s name, she’s going to need all help she can get. That is, without using magic. Memory charms are illegal, anyway.

 

“Elsea he’s a complete fucking bum and I hate him.” Archie coughs. Elsea doesn’t respond, but when she reaches for the bowl he pulls it out of her reach. “He’s just gonna screw you over again. What makes this time different from the other times he dangled the pickle?”

 

Elsea suppresses the need to pull out her wand and jinx him to hell. It would be so easy.

 

“First of all, don’t ever use the term ‘dangle the pickle’ within a twenty mile radius of me ever again,” Elsea explains, sitting next to him on the huge boulder in the middle of the famous first ever smoking spot. Apparently the setting does nothing for Archie, which is the opposite of fine.

 

“Second of all,” Elsea continues. “I’m right about this. It’s different because I actually understand his problems now and the whole thing makes total sense. I promise you, Remus is a great person. One of the best people on earth, probably. I hope you get to find out why someday.”

 

Archie rolls his eyes, still hogging the bowl. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, sighing. “I still don’t see why you can’t tell me what exactly his ‘problems’ are, but whatever. I guess I’m okay with you not hating him anymore, as long as you’re still around to blaze two to three times a day.”

 

“Hey, maybe I’ll tell you in twenty years. When we’re married with two kids and whatnot.” It’s one of Archie’s favorite things to talk about, and Elsea likes to, well, dangle the pickle, every once in a while.

 

“You and me, or you and _Remus_?” Archie asks begrudgingly.

 

Elsea smirks, reaching over and grabbing his hand. “You and me, dumbarse. Though, I’m not sure we’d make a decent married couple.”

 

“Do I have to wait for Dick and Stan Two to be born to find out?” he whines.

 

“Uh, maybe. And it’s non-negotiable, we are not naming our kid _Stan Two_. That’s weird.”

 

“But he’s the one that brought us together.” Archie lifts the piece in his hand and then makes a show of kissing his teeth. “What a guy. What a dude. The ultimate mate.”

 

“Stan?”

 

“Nah, weed.”

 

Elsea and Archie share a grin.

 

“So you’re okay with it, for real?” she asks one more time. His approval does mean a little. Not a lot, but something.

 

“Absolutely not,” he says. “But you’re going to do whatever you want anyway.”

 

Elsea smiles. “True.”

 

“Well,” Archie clicks his tongue, “then let’s celebrate the real reason we came out here. We’ve finished end of term exams!”

 

Elsea leans back against the boulder, grinning happily to herself. Her exams had been decent, after the talk with Remus she’d felt more than ready to buckle down and study. So she did: hours upon hours of studying with Anya in the library truly paid off. Even if Anya was ignoring her quiz questions because she’s “annoyed by Elsea’s constant narcissism,” it helped. And if it didn’t, she did great relying on her natural Ravenclaw smarts, of course.

 

“Cheers,” Elsea replies, picking up the piece and taking a hit. “Things are looking up, my friend.”

 

“Except for that Red Eye bullfuckery,” Archie mumbles, taking the piece back. “Who knows what that’s about.”

 

“Wow, thanks for reminding me Archibald.” Elsea frowns. So there goes her fantastic mood. She’s still in a good mood, mind you, just not in a fantastic one.

 

“I’m just going to tell you straight,” Archie says. “Anyone who gives themselves their own nickname is a complete douchebag.”

 

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure you made up ‘High Roller.’”

 

“That’s for you. I’m just your humble assistant.”

 

“You got that right, Archibald Reginald Franklin Blackwater the Third.”

 

Archie stares at her, bothered. “Don’t call me that.”

 

On queue, in strolls in Xavier, Webb, Hadley, and Maddox, side by side. Most notably, Hadley is wearing a bright orange puffy jacket, a white knit scarf, earmuffs, gloves, snow trousers, and rainboots.

 

“Are you okay?” Archie asks. Looking her up and down.

 

She doesn’t even have to move her scarf to shut him up. All it takes is one angry look.

 

“She’s protesting the meeting spot,” Webb explains. “She doesn’t want to meet outside anymore. It’s too cold.”

 

“Is there a reason she can’t speak on her own behalf?” Elsea asks.

 

Webb and Hadley look at her as if she’s got the Giant Squid on her back. “Elsea. She’s _protesting_.”

 

Elsea groans. “It’s above ten degrees out here. It’s practically summer - Xavier isn’t even wearing a coat.”

 

“Xavier never wears a coat,” Webb argues. Meanwhile, he is wearing an expensive looking wool number and a scarf that has to be cashmere. Elsea considers asking him where he stole that from, but holds back. “And he wears shorts in the winter.”

 

Xavier, who is indeed dressed for a mid-July cookout, nods. Elsea notices he has about four new tattoos on his legs. Wherever he is able to get those on school grounds evades her.

 

“Alright, moving forward,” she says, decidedly changing the subject. It’s been apparent since the beginning that her dealers are barely certifiable over-grown babies. She wishes they would just grow up already.

 

Elsea clears her throat.

 

“I am assuming you all know that we suddenly have competition in our market.” She pauses for dramatic effect, it is wasted upon dead eyes. “Which is fine, a little competition never hurt anybody. In fact it raises the stakes _and_ it’s healthy. It’s going to make us look better in the end, I’m sure of it.”

 

Hadley sighs.

 

“Anyway, the Red Eye is probably run by fifth year imbeciles who don’t know purple haze from nitro hash. So I doubt we have anything to worry about.”

 

Maddox raises his hand.

 

“Yes, my favorite pupil.”

 

“First of all, I’d like to comment on how radiant you are today,” he begins, smiling. Archie elbows her in the ribs, _what a guy_. “Secondly. If that’s true, and we have nothing to worry about, why did you call this meeting? We usually don’t regroup until after break at this point.”

 

Elsea nods her head. That went poorly, pretty fast.

 

“I’m just mentioning it to you before you leave, so you can keep your ears and eyes open over break and so forth. I also wanted to see your face.” Elsea has no problem dishing the charm right back. “Faces.”

 

Webb, however, makes a vomiting noise. “I thought we were getting Christmas gifts.”

 

Archie laughs, shakes his head.

 

“Your Christmas gifts were the brownies from the the greenhouse that time Golden Archie had the flu, remember?” Elsea can’t really keep her voice from sounding irritated. Those fucks, she still hasn’t forgiven them for poking their dirty noses where they don’t belong.

 

Archie shakes his head and mutters. “Bad nickname.”

 

Webb rolls his eyes. “I mean, at least a hit from that would be nice.” He nods towards the piece in Archie’s hand.

 

Archie looks down at it and then back up at Elsea for confirmation.

 

She shrugs. “Whatever. This is on me.”

 

Maddox lets out a little whoop as Xavier fist pumps. Hadley just frowns and sits on an unoccupied boulder. Elsea goes back to sit next to Archie and mumbles, “Well, isn’t it lucky I packed extra for the party later?”

 

Archie smiles, fishing the baggie from his coat pocket (because Elsea would never risk it falling out and ruining her jacket). “You, my best friend, are a genius.”

 

“Also I invited Anya,” Archie adds, quickly, quietly.

 

Elsea feels herself freeze.

 

“You… _what_?”

 

He knows he fucked up.

 

“I invited Anya.”

 

Perplexed and angry, Elsea has a flashback to the time she pushed Archie into a pile of owl dung. It fills her with a sense of euphoria but it’s not enough.

 

“I’m just wondering,” she keeps her voice serene, terror fills Archie’s eyes, “why you would fucking think that it’s even _slightly_ a good idea to invite the president of S.A.P.S. - who is furious with me for God knows why at the moment - to my meeting with the known High Roller drug dealers?”

 

“Well, when we were smoking last week she mentioned that she’s never had a surprise party so I thought this would be a good chance to. Before we all left for my place,” Archie explains. “Her birthday is in three days, I haven’t gotten her anything. That time I bought her a snow globe? I picked it up from Hogsmeade and charmed it to look like it was from South America before I gave it to her. It’s starting to say _Argenmeade_ now. I think she suspects it’s not real. I owe her this, we both do. C’mon.”

 

“You thought… me, you, and five of our closest resident drug dealers would be a good surprise party for Anya _FUCKING_ Darzi?”

 

“I just thought-”

 

“You thought wrong.”

 

And then Archie explodes.

 

“Fucking _honestly_ , Eslea. This weird fight you and Anya are having is tearing me apart. She talks about you, you talk about her. Do you know what I talk about? Nothing. Because I don’t fucking care! I don’t care, Elsea. I just want to be able to chill and hear myself think for five seconds without, ‘Anya’s so annoying’ or ‘Elsea stared at Remus’ bum all day in class and ruined our healing potion.’ I’m bored of it.”

 

Elsea sputters, looking around to make sure nobody heard any of that. Sure enough, the other four were absorbed in Maddox coughing up a lung over a giant boulder.

 

“I was not staring at Remus’ bum. Point ruined the potion on purpose. It was sabotage.”

 

Archie groans. “See? This is the exact shit I don’t care about.”

 

“Well - how about _you_ stop being fucking dramatic, you piss twat.”

 

Elsea nearly throws him off the boulder, but he’s saved when Anya strolls into the clearing. _Oh no_.

 

“Guys?” she says, confused.

 

Xavier mouths to Hadley. _“Who is that?”_

 

“Oh my _god,_ ” Elsea mumbles.

 

“Surprise!” Archie shouts, jumping from the rock. “I threw you a surprise party with the Ravenclaw potheads... for your birthday that’s in three days!”

 

Anya doesn’t speak. Instead she wanders forward, glancing at all the drug dealers.

 

Elsea nearly drops dead. Especially when Hadley starts laughing maniacally, by herself, under her seven layers of unnecessary skiing attire. Archie is standing in the middle of the clearing still, arms open, smiling like a jackalope on speed.

 

“I said SURPRISE!” he shouts again, loud enough for a few birds to fly from the trees. Anya turns to him finally, her eyes large and watery.

 

“You… did this for me?” she asks. “Archie that is…”

 

 _Stupid? Senseless? Obvious? Stupid? Poorly planned? Stupid?_ Elsea has an entire dictionary full of words she could toss at him right now.

 

“I know, I know,” Archie cuts her off, “I figured, what would _you_ like better than a pre-game to the Gryffindor party than a surprise pre-game? In the woods? With all your best Ravenclaw pals?”

 

The word ‘pals’ sounds extremely odd coming from Archie’s lips. Especially in reference to a fleet of drug dealers Anya has repeatedly mentioned she doesn’t like. Also, there’s the fact that they’re all drug dealers. And Anya is Anya. Nothing is okay right now.

 

Anya sniffles and then looks up at Elsea, who is still standing like a statue on the rock. They haven’t been _that_ bad the past week, exactly. They’ve just kept their talking to a minimum and barely make eye contact. Mostly just studying and head nods. It was all working pretty well for Elsea. Apparently Anya is the source of a great deal of unwanted stress in her life.

 

But that’s not the point.

 

“Elsea… did you help out with this?” Anya asks. Her eyes are watering. _God_ , _she’s crying,_ Elsea thinks. “Even though we’re not on speaking terms?”

 

Elsea struggles. Because no, she had no idea this was happening and if she did she would’ve put a stop to it. However, Archie is staring at her with daggers in his eyes, standing on his toes in anticipation. _Say yes_.

 

“Yeah,” Elsea says, finally. She slides down from the rock gracefully. “We were going to invite more people from S.A.P.S. but admittedly most of them suck and wouldn’t want to come.”

 

“And you didn’t invite Sirius?” she says, she looks like she could burst with joy.

 

“No,” Elsea says, smiling. She wishes she had invited him and Remus. Making out with Remus on a rock sounds fun, although that may be her getting ahead of herself. They’ve only been waving and giving each other _those looks_ for a week now. And if Elsea knows anything about her new werewolf friend it’s that he moves obnoxiously slow.

 

“But we’ll be seeing them later. At the Gryffindor party? Got an express invite from Sirius this morning.”

 

She had, in fact, received an express invite from Sirius as she exited the Great Hall on the way to her charms exam. He’d stopped her by having three first years circle around her wearing Christmas hats and bells. It was horrible and Elsea hated every moment of it, that is, until Sirius had said, “Remus can’t wait to see you,” and winked.

 

Anything is worth that kind of reassurance. Although Sirius’ word is as good as, well, Sirius.

 

“Well, it was good while it lasted,” Anya says. And then, in typical Darzi fashion, throws herself forward into a rib crackingly tight hug with Elsea. “Thank God you set this up,” she whispers into Elsea’s hair. “You know I’ve wanted to interrogate the dealers for a long time.”

 

Elsea pushes her away. “Interrogate? What? Not today!” And then she laughs, like a psycho. Archie starts laughing too. “Save that for another time. After winter break.”

 

“Oh, but the opportunity is so ripe right now…” Anya is the most excited she’s ever seen her. “Look at Xavier, he’s high enough to tell me the combo to his safe at Gringotts.”

 

“That is immoral,” Archie says, stepping nearly between the two of them. “I expect better from you, Any.”

 

 _Bastard_ , Elsea thinks. He must know she likes him, finally figured it out somehow. He wouldn’t be dropping that nickname otherwise.

 

Anya blushes, considering for only half second before shaking her head. “Then why did you invite them?” she asks, smiling almost too wide for that type of question.

 

“It was an arrangement,” Elsea lies. “I was actually buying from them. For you.”

 

Anya stares at her, confused. “You decided to pick up weed from the High Roller? For me? Even though I don’t smoke at all?”

 

“You _do_ smoke sometimes. It was Archie’s idea, anyway.”

 

Anya turns her head to Archie, who is grinning sheepishly with his hands behind his back.

 

“Hey,” he interjects, “it’s a gift. Want it or not?”

 

Anya seems startled by his bluntness and nods her head quickly.

 

“Alright, fine. But no one tells _anyone_ , about this okay? I’ve got a reputation to maintain, thank you very much.”

 

“I’ve already sent Lily an owl,” Elsea mumbles quietly to Archie. He elbows her in the response. Louder, she adds, “I mean, of course not. Who would I tell?”

 

 

-.-

 

Remus, standing in front of the mirror, pushes his hair to the side. Then he frowns. He runs his fingers through it again and tries to settle it. Nothing. Horseshit. He looks awful.

 

James, who is lounging on his four-poster bed with a bottle of red wine balanced between his bare thighs (because who wears trousers when they’re in the dormitory together?) laughs. “Moony, mate, as hard as you try you’ll never tame the wild beast. Let it flow, like me!”

 

James is the last person’s hair Remus wants to emulate, especially since he always looks like he’s just been riding on the wing of an airplane.

 

“I feel like if I do something it looks like I’m trying hard,” Remus explains, staring at himself in the mirror. “But I don’t want to look like I’m trying… ever.”

 

“Ah, that’s my forte,” Sirius remarks. Remus instantly tunes him out because Sirius is the king of trying too hard. He starts poking at his hair again. The scars from the last full moon have faded a bit and his skin has cleared up this week. Things are looking up… including his hair, which is literally standing straight up.

 

“It’s fine. The key to not trying too hard is literally not giving a shit. That’s why I’m such a charmer,” Peter says. But Peter is on his third t-shirt in the last fifteen minutes and honestly Remus has no time for any of his mates right now. This is crucial. This is imperative. This is the first social setting he’ll have seen Elsea at since their patrol the week before. They’d both gotten their patrol shifts off for the evening so they could attend the party. He wants to impress. He wants to spend time with her.

 

Really, he just wants to kiss the living daylights out of her, and he is going to finally do it. Because if he doesn’t tonight, he might actually explode.

 

“Remus,” James says randomly. “Elsea would like you if you were bald as a Q-tip and covered in dirt. Why don’t you try to chill?”

 

“I am chill,” Remus insists, mussing up his hair because his wrists are beginning to hurt. “Piss off James. It’s not even about her.”

 

There is a pause.

 

“I don’t even like her that much.”

 

Everyone in the room shares a collective laugh, including Frank Longbottom who has just strolled into the dormitory.

 

“Okay, thanks guys.”

 

“Remus,” Sirius says, standing from the bed. “You’re going to have to stop acting like a dumbarse for more than five seconds if you want to do this right.”

 

“What do you know about doing this right?” Remus asks, he could size him up anyway. He is the tall one, after all.

 

“I know that I’ve been open and honest from day one with Anya and it’s only done me good,” Sirius says. Peter even scoffs, but closes his mouth quickly once Sirius shoots him a cool glare.

 

“You really think so Padfoot?” James asks, grinning.

 

“Yes. She knew I was into her before I even started. Being open about it removed the whole awkward phase that you spent your entire term being miserable in.”

 

He’s not wrong, Remus concludes. But he’s also not right. Despite the drama he experienced with Elsea on a daily basis, he’s also got a connection that seems to be mutual. They’ve snogged twice, despite both ending in trainwreck fights, they _have_ snogged. But Sirius? He’s gotten nothing out of this. Literally, _nothing_. He’s desperately chasing a girl who doesn’t like him back, no matter what she knows and doesn’t.

 

Remus feels bad.

 

“You’re probably right, mate,” he says, clapping Sirius on the back. Despite being dead set on snogging Elsea’s brains out by the end of the night, he’s also now with a new mission. He’s going to get Sirius laid. By another girl. That likes him. Not Anya Darzi. “Okay, this is it. How do I look?”

 

“Good,” Peter says.

 

“Fit,” Sirius replies.

 

“Fucking adorable,” James sits up, extending the bottle of wine to Remus, “now let’s get trashed.”

 

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

 

“God you’re so cute,” James says again. “You are the cutest when good things happen to you.”

 

“Okay James,” Remus says. “I got it.”

 

James whimpers, then. “You’re going to get it in before me, aren’t you?” he asks, staring into space. “Lily is really going to have us wait till marriage.”

 

“Wank it out in the shower and get it over with,” Remus says, grabbing the wine and taking a long drink.

 

“I’ve been doing that for ages,” James whines. “And I’m not trying to pressure her, I’d never do that… I just… lads, I have things I need someone else to take care of. Things this hand just really doesn’t cover.”

 

“That sounds like you want someone to lick your arse,” Peter observes. “That’s fucked up.”

 

“Fuck you, I don’t want someone to lick my arse, thanks. Just, you know, things.”

 

“That doesn’t clear anything up,” Sirius points out. “Also, mate, I feel you. I’m dry. I’ve been in a dry spell for like, two weeks.”

 

“Two weeks? Who’d you shag two weeks ago?”

 

“Maeve Daniels. Sorry Pete.” Sirius shrugs. His hair falls over his eyes in a way that girls find mysterious and Remus just finds obnoxious. He’s been telling Sirius to trim his fringe for weeks now.

 

“It’s fine. I think she might be mad.”

 

“Oh she is completely mad.”

 

“Why don’t you just break up with Lily?” Remus suggests, intervening. It’s worth a shot.

 

James glares at him. “In your dreams, wankstain.”

 

“Then your hand is your only option at this point.”

 

“The last time I shagged anyone was last spring, okay?” James says. “And it wasn’t even good.”

 

“Don’t blame her for your inadequacies.”

 

“I’m not blaming her. I just want to die. My balls are going to explode.”

 

“But you _love_ her,” Remus teases. Sirius high-fives him.

 

“So? You love Elsea Holmes! Haha! Remus and Elsea sitting in a tree f-u-c-k-i-n-g.”

 

“I don’t _love_ her. I just... quite like her.”

 

James coos, “Aw.”

 

“Isn’t it funny,” Peter notes, snagging the bottle of wine from Remus and leaning against the bed stand, “I’m getting the most arse out of the four of us?”

 

“Fuck off Pete!” James tosses a pillow at him. Sirius tips his head back and cackles. Remus just smiles.

 

-.-

 

Elsea is delightfully drunk. She’s wearing red lipstick, reindeer antlers, a little red dress, and she’s pretty sure there is no one hotter than her in Ravenclaw house. No, Hogwarts in general.

 

“Archie,” Elsea says, lounging on one of the many couches in the Gryffindor common room. “I feel like from now on instead of walking everywhere, you should just carry me on a chair over your head like the goddess I am.”

 

Archie nods his head. His eyes are half shut, his hair is in six different directions. “I don’t have the upper body strength.”

 

“Lifting charm,” Elsea says. And then she giggles to herself, because that was a Remus reference and no one else but her and him understand. God, they’re perfect and she doesn’t even know where the damn hell he is. “Where did Anya go? Wasn’t she supposed to get us some of that green apple pie vodka stuff?”

 

Archie shrugs. He’s sitting in an armchair, slung halfway down, feet up on the table.

 

“I think my golden days are coming to an end, Elsea,” he says, sadly. “I’m not happy with myself anymore.”

 

Elsea leans forward, barely; she’s far too comfortable to move.

 

“What do ‘ya mean, Archduke?”

 

“I mean,” he starts, pauses, and begins again. “I don’t think there is anyone… left for me. Here. All the girls are either over me or I’m over them.”

 

“Um… have you considered men?”

 

“That’s not the problem.”

 

“You know something I once read in one of Paisley’s crunchy granola health magazines,” Elsea begins, not sure why that keeps coming up in her mind recently, “says that in order to date someone else, you have to know how to date yourself.”

 

Archie chews on his lip before saying. “Date yourself?”

 

“Yeah,” Elsea repeats. She’s a little dizzy. Where are the apple pie shots? “Date yourself.”

 

Archie squints his eyes, leaning forward in the chair. “I already date myself like, four to five times a week. Sometimes twice a day.”

 

Elsea decides to not dignify that with a response. She sighs, loudly, and falls back into the sofa. The party is absolutely packed. There are bodies stuffed into the staircases, by the fire, near the study nooks. Elsea and Archie tossed some third years out of the seating area twenty minutes prior with dirty looks and threats of social ruin. So far they’d only had Owen McNeilson settle in to the other armchair, and he’s been snoozing softly ever since.

 

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Elsea says, getting up to slide into the chair next to Archie. It’s much more comfortable this way. “Dating isn’t just sex. It’s talking and connecting and money and all that other shit.”

 

Archie sighs. “Yeah, the stuff I’m not good at?”

 

“Please. You’re great at money.”

 

“I’m great at my parent’s money.”

 

“So?”

 

“So I’m fucking screwed.”

 

“Stop this!” Elsea half shouts. “Nonsense! You’re great at talking. You charm the pants off of people everyday.”

 

“But isn’t that the problem?”

 

“No, no. You just need to make sure you charm them right to the edge. So you’re on the cusp of pantslessness, teetering on sexy and social butterfly. Get what I’m saying?”

 

Archie stares at Elsea for a long while, eyelids lowering with drunken exhaustion. “No.”

 

Elsea pats him on the shoulder, shaking her head. “You’re thinking too much,” Elsea tells him. “We need to get you drunker and happier. This isn’t fun, c’mon. It’s Christmas.”

 

“Where is Anya with the apple pie shots?”

 

Elsea groans. She forgot that she was waiting for delicious and intoxicating apple pie shots.

 

“I dunno, but she’s taking for fucking ever,” Elsea whines, pressing a hand against Archie’s chest in order to balance and look over across the party. It’s then that she spots the charmed mistletoe, which has been floating around the party as it lands just above their heads. “Oh,” she says.

 

“What?” Archie asks, confused. Elsea points up and he looks. His face creeps in a tiny little blush and he says, “we don’t have to, if you don’t want…”

 

“Some fifth year charmed it so that if we don’t kiss we’ll grow boils all over our faces. And I’d like to stay pretty, thank you very much. Remus hasn’t even _seen_ me yet.”

 

Archie nods. “I mean…”

 

Elsea just leans in, placing a hand on his cheek, and kisses him. It’s short. Really, could’ve been anyone. Elsea feels nothing but the sensation of lips on her lips before they sputter and break apart from laughing.

 

“Oh my god,” Archie says, wiping his mouth. “You’re sick.”

 

Elsea laughs loudly without inhibition. “That was the best kiss you’ll ever get.”

 

Archie scoffs. “You’re mad.”

 

“Let’s do it again!” Elsea says. She feels a bit crazed, if she’s being honest with herself. It’s just that everything is _so good_ right now. Remus likes her, Archie is a cutie little friend, Anya is getting her shots somewhere, her Mum sent her a letter this morning detailing what they’ve been doing in bloody Bermuda the past two weeks. Life is grand.

 

She grabs Archie by the ears and kisses him on the lips again.

 

“You’re gonna get lipstick on me!” he shouts.

 

She kisses him again and again. On the cheeks, on the forehead. She’s like an overjoyed Mum seeing her son come off the Hogwarts Express.

 

“Stop being gross!” He laughs.

 

“I’m so proud of you, you’ve really grown into a lovely young man,” Elsea says, smiling at him and patting his face. “I mean it, Arch, you’re like my prized pig at the fair and I’ve just won the grand prize.”

 

“I’m _some pig!”_ Archie jokes. Elsea may have made him watch the Charlotte’s Web movie with him last summer after they ate a weed brownie.

 

They giggle once more and Elsea lays her head on his chest just as she notices Anya.

 

“How long have you been there?” Elsea asks, panicking.

 

“Just got here.” Anya is holding three shot glasses. Elsea has never seen her face look so distressed. She looks like she’s in physical pain. “Shots are gonna get cold. And you know, the whole point is to take them hot.”

 

She’s seething. Oh god, Anya is going to _kill her_.

 

Archie stares up at her, face red and grinning like he didn’t just crush her delusions of settling down with him somewhere green one day.

 

“Hand em over then!” he hollers. “Want to sit on the chair? You can lay across us.”

 

Anya reluctantly hands them the shots and then says, “Let’s just get this over with, yeah? I don’t want them to get cold, like I said.”

 

Elsea runs a tongue along her bottom lips, resists the urge to prolong the conversation any longer to watch Anya struggle, and says, “Sure thing, Captain.”

 

She stands up, forces Archie up, and then the three of them knock their glasses together and toss them back. Elsea lets the liquid burn her throat before clapping her hands together and deciding she’s tired of this. Where the hell is Remus? She’s been waiting for him for ages now and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get at least a proper snog by the end of the night.

 

“I dunno,” Archie says, and she realizes she’d just said all that out loud. “But Elsea, come on, I mean, is Lupin even worth it at this point?”

 

Elsea glares. Anya glares.

 

“I mean, never mind.” Archie buries his face in his hands. “Anya, want to come sit next to me? We can judge people together. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

 

Anya looks at him and a wave of doubt flashes over her. Archie plops himself onto the sofa Elsea once occupied and pats the seat next to him. Anya touches her face for a moment before her eyes darken and she shakes her head. “No, I’ve already told Sirius I would drink with him.”

 

“What?” Archie and Elsea bark out in unison.

 

Anya nods, straightens her shoulders, and says, “Yeah. I’ve decided to give him another shot.”

 

“That’s idiotic,” Archie replies. Elsea turns to look at him. He’s _upset_. Not just upset, he’s _fuming_ and God forbid, _jealous_. “You hate the wanker.”

 

Anya shakes her head fervently. “No, I don’t hate that wanker. Sirius has been unbelievably nice to me and he’s so nice to look at so I think that together he and I will have a nice time.”

 

“You mentioned that it might be nice,” Elsea responds under her breath. She’s still too taken aback to process. Anya has turned down Archie?

 

“So I’ll see you later then.” Anya nods to them both, spins around on her heel, and darts up towards the staircase to the boys dormitory.

 

-.-

 

“Mate,” Sirius mutters to Remus, standing stiff against the wall, an expression of pure disgust on his face. “We gotta get out of here. Stat.”

 

The scene before them is one that should never had happened. It all started when James and Lily got into an argument because he didn’t want to wear the heinous sweater she bought him, then he started on with the fire whiskey and wouldn’t stop, and now he’s laying on the floor, covered in vomit, resting his head against the seat of the loo.

 

And that’s only half of it.

 

Because Peter, always picking them well, had been chatting up a fifth year named Antigone Bunsby when she apparently grabbed his arm and said, “I have to puke but can we still snog after?” Remus isn’t sure if he believes that part, but there the two of them are, sitting in the next stall. He’s not 100% sure it’s not Peter crying and talking about how embarrassed he is, but he wouldn’t be shocked if it is. All he knows is that if Peter so much as touches lips with that girl, he’s losing all respect for his friend thus forth.

 

“I know,” Remus says, “but we can’t leave them. With Peter, none the less.”

 

“Peter is fine,” Sirius wines, leaning his head back in frustration. “He’s not even drunk. And he’s a brilliant caretaker. Remember that time we all went to the London bars last summer? He saved your life.”

 

Remus narrows his eyes. “You know Sirius? I distinctly _don’t_ remember that time, actually.”

 

“You snogged eight girls!” James gargles, hugging the loo with his whole body. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Your inner wolf came out.”

 

Sirius and Remus shout at the same time.

 

“What?” James asks. “Antigone isn’t even coherent right now. The girl doesn’t even know her own name.”

 

“It’s _Ant_ ,” Peter shouts from the stall next door. “And, uh, yeah. She’s fallen asleep on my lap.”

 

“Ant?”

 

“She prefers Ant.”

 

“Bloody weird name,” Sirius mumbles, and he and Remus exchange a look of agreement.

 

“That’s rich, coming from Sirius Orion Black, you pretentious fuck,” Peter bites back.

 

Remus stifles a laugh into his hand and James turns his head back for a moment to shout, “Peter, going off!”

 

“Shut up, Prongs,” the three of them shout back at him.

 

James mumbles something to himself before flipping on to his back to stare at the ceiling. It’s a sad sight, Remus can’t even deny it.

 

“You know,” Sirius starts, “if you want, I can just go get Lily for you.”

 

James scoffs. “Why? So she can rip me a third asshole?”

 

Ant, or Antigone, or whatever the hell her name is, mumbles, “Wait you have two buttholes already?” And then she hiccups. “Aren’t you only supposed to have one?”

 

Remus feels a slight twinge of anxiety at the fact that she’s coherent enough to pick up that part of the conversation. Sirius pinches his arm a moment later, looking at him and shaking his head. Right. She’s not going to remember it.

 

“Yes, Antigone, that is correct. But she ripped me my second asshole two hours ago when I told her I didn’t want to wear that wretched… _thing_.”

 

“It wasn’t even that bad,” Peter comments. “I would’ve just worn it.”

 

“Yeah, Peter. And that’s the difference between you and me.”

 

“What the hell are you trying to say, Potter?”

 

“James,” Remus intervenes, before things start turning serious. “Stop being a prick.”

 

James nods his head. “Sorry Peter. I do think you’re a really cool kid. I’m glad we’re friends.”

 

Peter responds, “Piss off.”

 

Sirius rolls his eyes, leaning into Remus side.

 

“Remus,” he says, “I’m going to die in here, aren’t I?”

 

Just like clockwork, there is a light knock on the door. Remus doesn’t even have to answer it to know who it is. All he does it open it as slowly and small as possible and slip through the crack. There, on the other side, in the ugliest damn sweater on the planet, is Lily Evans. Mascara all over her cheeks, steel clips halfway down the length of her red hair, the tip of her nose is red like she had been standing outside in the cold for hours. And based on the stench of whiskey coming off her, it’s a definite possibility that she had been doing just that. Remus can’t believe it. In all of their years and adventures at Hogwarts, Lily never appeared to have a hair out of place. Now she’s all sloppy and red, holding an empty plastic water bottle that must’ve been full of something potent.

 

When she starts crying, he even feels bad.

 

“Lily?” he says softly. “Is everything… _okay_?”

 

She wipes her eyes, shaking her head.

 

“No, _Moony_ ,” she says his nickname mockingly, “I’m not okay.”

 

He puts his hands up defensively. “I was just asking.”

 

“Well I was just trying to see my fucking boyfriend and you’re giving me the third degree. Like, is that even necessary? Why are you always such a prick?”

 

Remus eyes widen. He isn’t even being rude this time.

 

“Holy hell Evans, you’re wasted,” Remus says, tilting his head to the side. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

 

“Let me in,” Lily seethes. “Before you have slugs for fingers.”

 

“Okay.” Remus responds. “No.”

 

Lily narrows her eyes. “ _Remus_.”

 

“You’re clearly not having the best night. But neither is James, and I reckon a bit of space will be good for you.”

 

“Don’t you fucking preach at me.”

 

Remus pauses, considering. Can he save this situation? No. Can Lily and James fight and make up and while that’s going on can he escape and maybe find Elsea and finally snog her? Possibly.

 

“Fine.” He steps aside. Lily puts her hands on the door and bursts in. Just as Remus is about to follow her in, Anya Darzi pushes open the main door and steps into the seventh year boys’ dormitory. Wearing a green velvet Christmas-y dress, she looks sweet and innocent. Remus knows better.

 

They look at each other for a long moment. Remus becomes aware that there is a certain level of distrust between them - to her, he is the boy that potentially broke her best friend’s heart, and to him, she’s a raging rude ass bint who treats his best mate like trash.

 

“Hi,” she says slowly. Remus nods his greeting.

 

“Lily just went in there,” Remus says. “But James is vomiting so, I don’t think you want to--”

 

“Is Sirius in there?”

 

“You’re looking for _Sirius_?”

 

Anya narrows her eyes. “Uh, yeah.”

 

“Sirius Black?”

 

“Yes. Sirius Black. What other person do you know with the name _Sirius?”_

 

“It’s a common name. Ever met Sirius Green?”

 

“Do you think you’re funny or something?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Are you high?”

 

For some reason, when Anya asks him this, it makes Remus irrationally mad.

 

“Maybe,” he retorts. He’s not, but fuck that.

 

Anya scoffs. “Great, you and Elsea are perfect for each other! Now let me in.”

 

Remus decides that he’s not going to let that bother him right now. In fact, he’s going to take advantage of this. He’s drunk, he’s sort of happy for once, and he’s not going to let people who annoy him ruin his night.

 

“Hey, where is she?” he asks, genuinely.

 

To his surprise, Anya just snaps.

 

“I don’t fucking know! Ask Archie!”

 

And with that, she knocks him aside like he’s a flimsy curtain, flinging open the door and storming inside. It’s then that he decides that Elsea has terrible, _terrible_ friends. She really does surround herself with the worst. If he had to be trapped on a desert island with Archie or Anya, he might pick solitary confinement. Befriend a coconut, or a seashell. Anything is better than those two.

 

That being said, the entertainment that’s occurring in the bathroom now is too good to miss. He follows her inside, leaning against the door as a scene that somehow manages to be worst than before unfolds.

 

James and Lily are both crying now, together, leaning on the toilet and saying “I love you” and “I’m the worst” mixed with, “No _I’m_ the worst.” Peter and Ant are still in the same position, puking and reassuring themselves. Anya is just there watching the whole thing, looking both put together and out of place as she stands closer to Sirius than Remus is comfortable with.

 

Bad vibes. That’s the only term that comes to mind when he sees her. Bad, bad vibes.

 

“Why is James wearing his eyepatch?” Anya asks.

 

“It makes me look like a pirate,” is James’ response. Anya opens her mouth to respond but instead just nods slowly. James turns back into the toilet and burps, but there’s no more alcohol in his system anymore and for fuck’s sake, Remus just wants to put him to bed.

 

“Alright everyone,” he starts, ready to take charge. Honestly, he thinks so often about how he should have been made Head Boy over James, you know, had he been as confident and a good of a leader. But Remus gets shit done. Remus Lupin is a problem solver. “Time to get our shit together, yeah?”

 

Sirius nods and tries not to stare directly at Anya’s boobs. “There’s a party out there,” Remus continues, “and a girl I’d really like to snog. So, you,” he’s drunk, so snapping makes him feel important, “Peter, you get the jailbait out of here. Take her to her room and for fuck’s sake don’t snog her. She’s been vomiting all night.”

 

Peter opens his mouth to protest and Remus shakes his head, continuing. “Love birds,” he directs this to Lily and James, “you’re both too fucked up to function. Go to bed, yeah? And you,” he levels his next glare at Anya, “leave Sirius alone.”

 

“Mate!” Sirius cries, but Remus is already clapping his hands.

 

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

 

Strangely enough, they listen. Except Anya, who after glaring equally as vicious back at Remus, literally latches herself to Sirius’ side. This is not what Remus meant when he said he was going to get Sirius laid. But he doesn’t have time for this. Peter and Ant disappear out of the bathroom and last is James and Lily, who are sweaty and stinky and Remus literally walks them over to James’ bed.

 

Then he washes himself up, because he’s got a _lady_ to snog. He sprays himself with a bit of cologne, takes a quick shot of the firewhiskey James had left behind, doesn’t even bother to fix his twisted hair, and follows Sirius and Anya down the staircase to the party.

 

“Hi Remus,” Mary says, crossing her arms over her chest and smirking. “Glad you made an appearance.”

 

“Mary!” Remus shouts, and he realizes just how excited and drunk he really is. “Long time no see! Nearly forgot about you!”

 

Mary narrows her eyes. Remus leans forward and plants a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “Thanks for that, Lupin.”

 

“No problem! Gotta go!” He slips past her, stomach spinning, in search of Elsea. This is finally it. He’s finally here, he’s finally drunk, and he just wants to see _Elsea_. Everything reminds him of her, and now, finally, he’s going to be face to face with her. Beautiful, exciting Elsea.

 

He finds Blackwater sitting on the couch by himself. Remus doesn’t even bother to feel bad as he steps over and shouts, “Where’s Elsea?” at him.

 

God, even looking at her friends give him a lift. _It’s finally happening._

 

Archie narrows his eyes. “Haven’t seen her. She’s been looking for you, _mate_.”

 

Remus doesn’t have time for this. He just shakes his head. “Thanks.”

 

This is ridiculous. Why are there so many people here? Who the hell are they? Just as he’s about to go get himself another drink and call this night a failure, he sees a flicker of blonde through the crowd.

 

Remus follows it, searching. He feels like a mad man, but at this point, it’s been established that they’re both bloody out of their heads. Elsea would probably appreciate this right now. Hell, hopefully she’s doing the same thing.

 

“Elsea!” Remus shouts, his fingers reaching out to the blonde girl. He places his hand on her shoulder and she turns around. And it’s decidedly not Elsea.

 

“Hiya Remus!” Camilla McKinnon cries, a little too excitedly. He blinks, completely unsure how he mistook Camilla for _Elsea_ , especially since Camilla McKinnon looks twelve. A cute twelve year old, sure, but _twelve_. “How are you?”

 

“I’m just, you know--”

 

“Well there you bloody are!”

 

He spins around and _there_ she is. Standing a few metres away is Elsea Holmes, her hands on her hips looking decidedly more upset than he’d imagined this moment to be. “I’ve been looking for you all night, you prick, I mean for _fuck’s sake_ you invite me to this party and spend the whole night--”

 

But Elsea doesn’t get to finish, because Remus has frantically stepped through the space between them, placed his hands on her face, and pulled her in for a kiss. _Finally_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY!!!! 
> 
> let us know what you think!


	20. Hanging on the Telephone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Because you’re letting a stupid, idiotic, unsexual BOY ruin your dating career. You are a hot young piece and you’re just saving it all for what? Archie Blackwater? Archie fucking Blackwater. I watched him pick his nose and eat it this morning! Right in front of us. Right. In. Front. Of. Us.”

Within five minutes of arriving at the Blackwater’s over-the-top estate in the middle of _bloody nowhere_ Elsea already knows she’s made a terrible mistake.

 

“Oh, so you brought your friends again?” Is the first thing Archie’s mother, Amerie Blackwater, says as she opens their front door. Archie looks murderous when he says ‘yes’ tightly and insists that he’s told her about this four times alone this past month. Amerie only frowns, shakes Elsea’s hand like they’re meeting for the first time, and gives Anya a cool once over. Archie apologizes quietly as they head inside behind Amerie, who is head to toe in mink and smells like old money.

 

“Nice to meet you!” Anya says before Elsea can shrug. Anya’s been surrounded by money her whole life, a bit of Chanel and elitism isn’t the least bit intimidating. Unlike Elsea, who the first time she met the Blackwaters nearly ripped off all her ready-to-buy clothes and burned them on spot in embarrassment.

 

“Your mum is a fucking nut,” Elsea mumbles to Archie once Amerie is up the grand staircase and out of earshot. They’ve done this before, millions and millions of times. Whenever Elsea is in the presence of the distinguished and snooty Amerie Blackwater, she and Archie spend the entire time making fun of her quietly behind her back. It’s trashy and probably in poor taste, sure, but Archie started it.

 

“I think she’s wearing that one to bother you,” Archie explains. “That’s the most expensive coat she owns.”

 

“Typical Amerie.”

 

“ _Typical_ Amerie.”

 

Anya winces a little, uncomfortable. “I like her coat,” she says, weakly. “It’s classy.”

 

Elsea snorts. Anya doesn’t get it. It’s her first time in the Blackwater domain and she has no idea what’s to come. This isn’t your basic, suck up to the parents situation in which she ought to appear like an angel and make as little fuss as possible. Flattery won’t get her _anywhere_. There is no possible way that Amerie Blackwater is going to accept Anya into their household. Unless Anya comes from a long line of pureblood wizards with galleons leaking out of their armpits, with each and every offspring sorted into the noble house of Ravenclaw, she’s toast. Done for. Elsea, a middle class muggleborn, is practically vermin.

 

Elsea loves it. It’s the only place on earth she’s trash. It’s refreshing.

 

“She has about ten of the same one, if you’re interested in taking one back to Hogwarts,” Archie mumbles.

 

Anya brightens. “Really?”

 

“Yes, but that would be stealing, I think.”

 

Elsea giggles quietly, sneaking a look at Anya’s shocked expression. She doesn’t belong here, not really. Elsea doesn’t either, but at least she’s got Archie.

 

Anya is joining them for the first time this year; invited only when Archie thought that Elsea was never going to come back from her post-Remus depression. After that was sorted, there was no polite way to say “your friend services aren’t needed anymore.” So now that she’s here in Archie’s home in all her Anya Darzi-like glory, things are bound to be awkward. As they have been for the last month.

 

She doesn’t fit into their dynamic like she once did. Now she just makes them feel guilty for a cheeky hot box of Archie’s marble bathrooms.

 

What she will do, however, is _talk and talk and talk_ about her totally spiteful and definitely not real relationship with Sirius Black. The funny part is that Archie doesn’t care one bit. They’ve been running into the same conversational walls over and over since the trip home started. It’s been hell.

 

“This place is amazing,” Anya coos, turning around and gazing admiringly. Her long plait, which hits her bum at this point, smacks Elsea on the hip.

 

Once upon a time, standing in the entryway to the Blackwater estate would have had Elsea’s stomach in knots. Now, as she takes in the old decor, the antiques, and the way that everything looks like they spent a million galleons on it, it feels garish. Ridiculous. Stan’s herbal decor is better than this shit.

 

“It’s a lot, but it’s home.” Archie shrugs off his coat and tosses it on an antique looking table with a lot of glass artifacts on it. Like clockwork, the family house elf, Dipsy, magically appears on spot. Anya shouts, startled, as Dipsy picks up Archie’s coat and bows.

 

“Master Archibald is home, and Dipsy couldn’t be more pleased.”

 

“Cool it, Dips,” Archie replies. “You don’t need to be formal and shit with me. And please, don’t ever call me Archibald again.”

 

Dipsy looks horrified. “You’re right, Master Archie. Dipsy is the most casual.”

 

“Much better,” Archie says placing his bags on the ground next to Dipsy, who flinches at the loud clatter. “These are my mates, Elsea and Anya. You know Elsea, though. And remember to call her Stinky. My orders.”

 

“Oh my god.” Elsea chuckles and smacks Archie’s arm. “Dipsy, please do not do that.”

 

Dipsy looks conflicted.

 

“Welcome to the Blackwater estate, Masters Anya and… _Stinky_.”

 

“YES!” Archie pumps his fist. Anya lets out a loud laugh as Elsea groans. Dipsy takes both of their coats and vanishes before their eyes, of course not without calling her Master Stinky one more time. “Okay, so, house tours anyone? We added a new underground wing last month. It’s full of more useless shit, believe it or not.”

 

“When did you see it? We’ve been at school?” Anya asks.

 

Archie frowns. “Uh, when my aunt died. I spent a few days at home, remember?”

 

Anya looks humiliated. “Right! Sorry! Let’s see it.”

 

The look on Anya’s face has Elsea feeling seasick. She can’t take another full Blackwater house tour, especially not with Anya doting after a clueless Archie. The last time Elsea was here, which must have been last Easter holiday, Archie spent fifteen minutes showing her the House Elf corridors before they both decided for a smoke break. They’d ended up baked out of their minds, raiding the kitchen, and then passing out in Dipsy’s bed.

 

“Actually, I’m tired. You two go ahead,” Elsea says, heading towards the staircase. Anya has probably been waiting for that.

 

“Do you need Dipsy to find you a room?” Archie asks. He scratches the back of his head and looks like he really doesn’t want her to leave him alone with Anya sober.

 

Elsea shakes her head. “No, I remember where I was last time. The rooms don’t change, do they?”

 

“No idea.” Archie shrugs, then turns to face Anya. “What are your thoughts on indoor lakes?”

 

Anya raises her brows. “I don’t have a bathing suit.”

 

Archie laughs. “That’s not a problem! You can borrow one of Mum’s. She probably has one you’d like, you know, with the little modesty skirts on them.”

  
Elsea takes that as her queue to leave. She saunters up the spiral staircase, running her hand against the cool metal rail, allowing herself to feel a little glamorous even though her boots are knock-offs. She can’t wait to find her room and flop backwards on her bed, stare at the ceiling that’s probably decorated like the Sistine Chapel and think beautiful thoughts while looking at beautiful things.

 

Remus should be calling soon. She’s not sure when, but soon. He made it a strong point to tell Elsea as he planted one on her right before she got on the Hogwarts Express, _in front of people_. Well, sort of. James, Sirius, Peter aren’t really considered people as much as terrifying objects of destruction. Sirius had cheered the entire time, and James smacked Remus’ arse afterwards. Peter just sat smiling, knowingly. The lot of them are odd, that’s for sure. Sometimes Elsea doesn’t understand their friendship. But then again, her best mates are _Archie_ and _Anya_. She’s not exactly a model.

 

That aside, Elsea has a lot to look forward to. Spending a week in a huge mansion, talking on the phone with her _boyfriend_ after expensive but free dinners every night, swimming in Archie’s indoor lake with her two best friends in the world, being blissfully stoned the entire time.

 

Boyfriend. The thought of Remus has her boyfriend sends her stomach into flutters. Well, they’ve technically not had that conversation yet, but there’s no way he’s not. They’re together, so that makes him her boyfriend, right?

 

Then of course she’ll be back at Hogwarts, sneaking around with Remus, doing patrol with Remus, _kissing Remus_ , riding on the back of Remus’ broomstick through the night. She’s not sure if that last thing is attainable, but it’s been a secret fantasy of hers to do that ever since she found out that there were flying broomsticks. Plus, they’re wizards she’s sure there is a way to figure that out. And Remus being absolute shite on a broomstick is only a minor worry. He can practice for her.

 

Finally, she wanders into the bedroom she believes she slept in last time. King-sized bed, lots of cashmere. The plan was that she’d send a letter via owl to James’ house, where Remus is staying for the break, with the Blackwater’s home phone number on it. He’d call the minute he received it. She’d remember to send that after her nap, of course, once she’s well rested. She doesn’t want to look too desperate. They might be together, but Elsea still worries a little. There are certain things she wants to uphold.

 

-.-

 

Nantwich is a place Remus can comfortably call his third home. First is his tiny house outside Leeds with his parents, second is Hogwarts - _obviously_ , but his third home belongs solely to the Potters.

 

They started welcoming him during Christmas holidays during his third year, after his father had a mission from the ministry that sent him and his mother all the way to Transylvania for two months. Unfortunately, Remus couldn’t tag along, not only because is that the most cliché location for a werewolf, but also because the hut they were staying in would require someone to sleep on the floor. The Lupins are nearly famous for their back problems, and their stinginess. Lupins hate spending money. So James invited him over for the break.

 

The Potters are a nice but odd people. They’re absurdly old; first off, way older than other set of parents that Remus has met. They also treat James like he’s the lord of the damn sun. His house is basically a glorified trophy room for his achievements, participation ribbons and all. James revels in it. It’s hard to get used to at first, as James behaves like he’s crowd surfing from room to room swimming in his parent’s praise, but like always, it’ll happen.

 

Remus sets his suitcases on the floor next to Sirius’.

 

“Mum, Dad,” Sirius shouts, grinning at Remus expectantly. “I’m home!”

 

They run out on queue, wrapping Sirius in a hug that nearly knocks him to the ground. James walks in right after, immediately untangling his scarf from his neck and sighing loudly.

 

“You alright mate?” Remus asks, as Sirius’ and the Potter’s hug went from long to weirdly long. Uncomfortably long. Remus watches as Sirius nuzzles his head into Mrs. Potter’s neck. He’d make a comment, but he thinks they’d just ignore him.

 

James nods his head, clearly winded. Remus warned him not to over pack, that his parents always have an array of hand stitched Christmas sweaters for him to wear everyday of the week, but he insisted quite sharply that he doesn’t give a shit this year.

 

“Hey,” James says, after he has a moment to collect himself. “It’s me. I’m here. James, your real son? Mum, you pushed me out of your body? Dad, we played catch in the backyard on broomsticks when I was six? Ring a bell?”

 

“Oh!” Dorea Potter tears herself from Sirius and rushes over to James, only sending Remus an apologetic smile as she passes by. Remus isn’t bothered by the lack of attention. Actually, he prefers it. Hugging has never been his thing.

 

James and Dorea hug briefly and Charlus and James shake hands in a way Remus can only describe as lovingly. By the time they approach Remus, Sirius is already halfway out the door. Charlus places a fatherly hand on Remus’ shoulder and Dorea gives him a proper kiss on the cheek. “How are you, Remus?” Charlus asks. “Final stretch coming soon, aye?”

 

“You’re looking so much fuller!” Dorea comments, grabbing his bicep and squeezing. “You’re looking so _healthy_. I’m so glad, though I’ll still be overfeeding you boys all week!”

 

Remus smiles fondly. Dorea is really an amazing cook. At home, the best his parents can do is pasta, _sometimes_. His dad spends hours at work, lobbying, and his mum has been working later shifts at the hospital. He doesn’t blame them though, Merlin no. “I’m looking forward to it.”

 

“I bet you are, now go unpack, I know you boys don’t like being kept apart for too long.”

 

Remus nods shortly, forever the most awkward person in front of adults for no apparent reason, and heads up the stairs to James’ room. He’s not sure what the layout is this year. Sirius only recently moved in and as far as Remus is concerned, they still have bunk beds. Which may mean sharing a bed with James, and that is always too much cuddling. Or sleeping on the floor - which means he could’ve just went to Transylvania all those years ago and despite the company, there really is no reason for him to come to Nantwich every Christmas.

 

Luckily, when he arrives upstairs, there are two beds pushed in separate corners of James’ room and, to his surprise, the Potter’s den has been converted into a separate bedroom. With, he finds, all of Sirius’ things inside. Posters of the Ramones, old leather jackets, books on punk music.

 

Remus peaks his head in and laughs. “I see you didn’t clean much before you left.”

 

“Mrs. P said I didn’t have to,” Sirius retorts, pushing past Remus to get inside. “She said she loves me for who I am.”

 

“A messy bastard? Fucking disgusting?” Remus offers. Sirius ignores him and walks further into the room. He bends over, picking up a black t-shirt off the floor, smells it, and then tosses it back down. “Well, come on in Moony, don’t be shy.”

 

James, who has not followed them into the room, is nowhere to be found. So Remus shrugs and walks inside. He leaves his bags in the doorway, because he’s certain they’ll be lost in the mess of Sirius’ things, and steps over a pair of black boots.

 

“Ah, there we are,” Sirius mumbles, lifting up one final t-shirt to reveal underneath, of course, an old packed bowl. It’s black with silver swirls going up the sides. Sirius wipes it on the edge of his t-shirt and holds it up into the light. “I knew I’d left it here.”

 

“Cheers,” Remus retorts. “Is that how you repay Mrs. P? By smoking in her house?”

 

“Not _in_ her house, dearest Moony.” Sirius grins, fishing from his pocket another small baggie. “ _Outside_ her house. I thought we’d walk to the pub down the street, smoke a bit before? Anything to chill James the fuck out. Do you know what his deal is?”

 

Remus doesn’t. James has been strangely on edge all day. He thinks it must have to do with the fight he and Lily had the night before, you know, drunk in the toilets. But he thought they must have been over by now, yet, they hadn’t seen Lily the entire train ride. “I dunno, mate. I think a few pints will loosen him up though.”

 

“And a smoke?” Sirius asks, raising his eyebrows.

 

Remus shrugs. “Maybe hold off on that for now.”

 

“Well, Merlin, do you want to smoke? Courtesy of the High Roller?”

 

Remus, who on the mention of his girlfriend’s alter ego, instantly brightens. Elsea. Just the thought of her makes all James’ weirdness disappear. He tries to hide a smile.

 

Sirius, of course, takes this as a yes. “Well fuck yeah! Let’s go get Prongs. Wormtail is gonna be so peeved he missed this.”

 

Just as Sirius holds the bowl to the light again for dramatic purposes, James quite literally storms past the open doorway, ignoring the two of them and heading straight into his room. Sirius scrambles, hiding the bowl back under the t-shirt and staring at Remus.

 

“What?” Remus asks.

 

“This might not be as weird to you because you’re like, the king of all angst, but James just completely ignored us.”

 

Remus scoffs.

 

“He didn’t ignore us, he’s probably stressed from unpacking.”

 

“Are you high? James doesn’t get stressed. He’s too self-assured. And who gets stressed from unpacking?

 

Remus rolls his eyes and begins heading out of the room. He’s not going to sit in James’ house and talk about him, that’s just too weird. Instead he wanders into James equally messy room with his suitcase.

 

“Where should I put these?” he asks, heading towards the bed.

 

“Up your butt and to the left,” Sirius says, chuckling.

 

James doesn’t even turn around when he says, “Under the bed.”

 

An awkward silence follows as Remus does just that. He tries to ignore Sirius, who keeps shooting him that ‘ _what’s up with this guy?_ ’ look that is usually reserved only for Peter or Snape. Remus has a feeling that maybe James is overtired and hungry. He’s got the dark circles, and at breakfast before they left James’ didn’t even try to touch his eggs. In fact the whole train over James didn’t even pick a dessert from the trolley when typically he buys the entire cart and then complains about his stomach for the rest of the journey.

 

Okay, maybe something is off.

 

“I’m mad James, I can’t help it,” Sirius says, sitting on his bed. “I loved the bunk bed.”

 

“Then go sleep in it,” James says impatiently, stuffing his clothes into his already over-filled drawers. “I think Dad put them in storage, also known as the attic.”

 

“I’m not sleeping in the attic. I have a bedroom.”

 

James pushes harshly at his drawers, urging them shut even though they clearly won’t. “Groovy.”

 

Remus lets Sirius share his gaze, finally. Because no one in their right mind says groovy.

 

“We were thinking about heading to the pub,” Remus says. James gives up on his drawers and turns around.

 

“What?”

 

“We were thinking about heading to the pub,” Remus repeats himself. “You know… the nameless one. We could all really use a pint. Or two. Long train journey, whatnot.”

 

James nods his head but doesn't really respond. He gets a faraway look in his eyes actually, it seems like he’s looking straight past Remus.

 

Okay, something is definitely off.

 

“Do you wanna come?” Sirius asks. “Or are you not feeling up to it?”

 

James blinks hard, shaking his head. “Why would I not be feeling up to it?”

 

“I dunno,” Sirius says, looking around mockingly. “You seem tired.”

 

James waves his hand dismissively, shakes his head. “No, no. I’m not tired at all. We should go.”

 

He doesn’t move.

 

“Are you sure?” Sirius asks.

 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right we could use a couple of pints.”

 

“Okay, let’s go now,” Remus says, clapping his hands together. The weird energy in the room is starting to make him feel icky. “I’ll get my coat from downstairs, Sirius, grab your wallet.”

 

As Remus hurries out of the room, sure Sirius will wrangle James along somehow, he hears Sirius ask, “So, Prongsie, how about a cheeky smoke?”

 

-.-

 

 

Life is grand. Elsea just had a four-course meal that probably cost enough to pay Stan’s rent for the next two years. She feels absolutely _fabulous_.

 

Remus still hasn’t called, but it’s only been a couple of days and she’s willing to bet that all the snow took a toll on Archie’s owl’s trip. The only anxiety she has is that Remus never receives her letter, then never calls her, and then never talks to her again because he forgets about her. But that’s barely a call for panic, because it’s highly unrealistic and she’s pretty sure she’s got Remus in the bag.

 

As for Anya, well. Her constant anxiety is actually causing Elsea mental harm. At first, or literally three days ago, Anya was completely normal. Fun, even, not talking about Archie or giving him those prolonged and creepy looks she known to do when he does something she finds _charming_.

 

Then day two came along, and Archie tripped while drunkenly trying to carry a mattress to surf down his grand staircase. Anya cracked, visibly, actually shook her head and went ‘ _oh no_.’ Elsea knew what that meant and thought it would be wise to ignore it, hoped that maybe Anya would follow in her suit until it went away. But that’s not how it works.

 

Anya spent that entire night talking about Archie, and _only Archie_. How she’s doomed, how she’s never going to get over him, how she’s going to be _unhappily married to Sirius Black_ and squeezing her eyes shut at night pretending she’s cuddling with Archie. At first, Elsea laughed at how innocent that sounds, but then it hit her that this is real. Anya would take it this far. She’s willing to wait for Archie even when he has no idea that he’s an option for her.

 

Maybe Elsea should do something.

 

“Did you see him?” Anya says quietly as she steps, uninvited, into Elsea’s bedroom for the millionth time. “He wore plaid today. I can’t believe how sexy he looks in plaid.”

 

“Oh my god,” Elsea says, cupping her hands over her ears and sitting on her bed. “Stop being gross.”

 

Anya only smiles, looks at her like she’s a fool for not seeing what she sees. “It’s unreal, honestly. How does someone look so good all the time?”

 

“Yeah, but have you ever heard a word he says?” Elsea argues. “Because, _hell…_ ”

 

“Of course. He’s got the _deepest_ voice…”

 

Elsea tries to tune her out after that. Anya isn’t going to get the point. Plus, Archie’s voice isn’t even that deep. He’s a baritone, at best, and she’s heard him shriek unattractively too many times to hear anything else. She just wishes that Anya would stop pining over Archie and enjoy the luxurious time they’re having. Like yesterday, they spent the entire day at Archie’s in-house spa. A spa, in his house. That’s ridiculous and it seems like Elsea is the only one _enjoying_ because everyone is too wrapped up in themselves.

 

Elsea is also far too stoned for this. It’s so boring, and annoying. Who cares if you have a crush on Archie? Crushes are stupid, she should just tell him.

It’s after twenty minutes of Anya droning on and on and on and on about Archie that Elsea realizes even the fluff of the expensive duvet can’t drown her out.

 

“Oh, would you shut the hell up about it already?” Elsea blurts, sitting up in bed. Her eyes, she realizes, are glaring furiously at Anya. But Anya isn’t even looking at her. She’s lying on her back on the end of the bed, staring dreamily at the ceiling.

 

“What?” Anya asks, clearly not having heard Elsea in the slightest.

 

“For fuck’s sake,” Elsea mumbles. She’s going to have to do this the hard way. “Look at me.”

 

Anya rolls her head lazily to look at her. “What?” she repeats.

 

“Archie Blackwater isn’t _anything_.”

 

“What?”

 

“Bloody hell, Anya! Listen to me!”

 

“You haven’t said anything!”

 

Elsea feels like she might explode. She kicks the blankets off of her legs, which are starting to feel suffocating at this point, and dramatically crawls off of the king-sized bed and stands before Anya. She peers down, domineering, and tells her straight, “I’m going to yell at you for a bit. You’re going to listen, okay?”

 

Anya blinks. “What?”

 

Elsea feels herself near explosion-levels of angry. Dealing with her dealers angry. Where the hell is Maddox’s affirmation when she needs it?

 

“Sit up.”

 

Anya doesn’t. Well, that wasn’t helpful.

 

“Anya, you’re acting like a fucking idiot.”

 

This gets her.

 

“ _Excuse_ me?”

 

“You. Anya Darzi. Hogwarts’s noble leader against the war on drugs? You’re being _stupid_. Yeah, you wanna know why? You wanna know why you’re being a daft little git?”

 

Anya looks horrified. Too horrified to speak, at this point.

 

“Because you’re letting a _stupid, idiotic, unsexual BOY_ ruin your dating career. You are a hot young piece and you’re just saving it all for what? Archie Blackwater? Archie _fucking_ Blackwater. I watched him pick his nose and eat it this morning! Right in front of us. Right. In. Front. Of. Us.”

 

“I don’t think he ate it-” Anya starts, but Elsea is not having any of it.

 

“Anya - he _ate_ it. He put his finger up his nose-” she puts her finger near her own nose to illustrate her point “-and then dug out a boogey, and then ate it. He put it in his mouth, and ate that booger. Do you understand?”

 

“I really don’t-”

 

“He ate boogers. You want that mouth on yours?”

 

“I mean, everyone picks their nose-”

 

“Please, try to listen to yourself. Archie! Two weeks ago, on his birthday? Remember that? Well he doesn’t! Because he got so charmingly drunk that he puked on himself. You kept ranting and raving about that silk shirt he was wearing. Well guess what? That shirt is now stained. With vomit. With _pink vomit_ , because he kept drinking those fruity little drinks called _Summertime Pink Lemonade Vodka Surprise_. I told him to stop, but he kept going. He sat there, on the sofa, downing pink drink after pink drink, and when he was too drunk to make it to the toilets, he spit up down his front. Twice.”

 

“It was his birthday,” Anya argues, “he’s allowed a little fun once in a while.”

 

Her face is pink. Very pink. Elsea knows she’s hitting home a point, but that since it’s Anya, and they’re dealing with Archie, she’s got to drive it home further.

 

“He smokes. Weed. Constantly. Do you know how constantly? We rolled a joint before bed last night. Another this morning, before breakfast. Once more after lunch. You know what we did this evening? We hot boxed his bathroom. While you were trying to tidy up Dipsy’s living quarters, Archie and I were baking ourselves silly. You know what he did? He took off his trousers and tied them around his neck and then told me all about the time he went to a psychic and asked whether he’d marry _Queen Elizabeth._ Because he had a dream, and it felt like a premonition. He thought he’d marry our elderly queen, Anya.”

 

“He’s clearly joking, Elsea.” Anya says defensively. Elsea is about to bellow back at her another example of Archie’s poor personhood but Anya holds up her hand. “No. Let me talk. People have fronts, Elsea. People aren’t always perfect and fully confident in themselves like you are. They sometimes act like idiots because they don’t know who they are yet, or because they’re uncomfortable in their own skin. Archie’s probably insecure, and he doesn’t need you treating him like shit.”

 

Elsea’s jaw drops. What a fascinating twist. “You don’t know him at all, do you?”

 

Anya stares at her long and hard.

 

“You really think that under all that bullshit and shitty judgment, Archie is a sad boy trying to find his way? You _really_ think he has confidence issues?” Elsea asks. This is interesting, this just got very interesting. “Honey, he _loves_ himself.”

 

“He could,” Anya argues. “You can’t say he doesn’t because you’re not him. All you do is judge the poor guy.”

 

The poor guy. Elsea cannot believe this.

 

“You’re so judgmental, Elsea. All you do is invalidate other people's struggles and problems. You know you’re not the only one who has issues, right? And just because we don’t go outright with our fists flailing at every glaring obstacle in our paths doesn’t make us weak. It makes us different.”

 

Elsea isn’t even sure what’s happening anymore. She doesn’t feel like that was particularly insulting, because she’s always prided herself on her ability to go out there and make her own destiny. But fuck, she hates being yelled at. Besides, Anya is only trying to distract from the real point. Elsea started this speech with a mission, and by Merlin’s beard she’s going to fucking complete her fucking mission.

 

“You need to get Archie out of your system,” Elsea says, finally. “You want him so fucking bad? Tell him, Anya. He’s a boy. An _extremely_ attainable boy. If you want him, you can go and get him.”

 

Finally, now, at this, Anya looks utterly horrified. “What?”

 

“Go find Archie. Tell him how you feel. If you really, actually want to be with him, do something about it. You criticize me for the way I go out and reach for what I want, well guess what Anya? I get what I want. Because I ask for it. As much as you dislike the way I am, well, you can’t argue with that logic.”

 

Anya looks away, then back up at her. “I don’t think I can do that. It doesn’t work that way for me, Archie-”

 

“Archie is just like any other warm-blooded, idiotic male, Anya. He wants sex, women, and killer hit off his new bong. You march up there and tell him how you feel, I guarantee, you’ll get something out of it.”

 

Anya swallows, then stands up. “What if he doesn’t like me? What if it was all for nothing?”

 

Elsea rolls her eyes.

 

“Okay. Anya, you know you’re hot. Worst-case scenario he’s _only_ gonna want to hook up. That’s worst-case scenario. You know he’s going to be interested. Everything will be fine, even if he does reject you. Maybe then you’ll realize something.”

 

By that, Elsea means hopefully she’ll realize that Archie’s a big idiot. She’s only said it like fifteen times in the last five minutes.

 

Anya nods her head before full on hugging Elsea far too tightly.

 

“Thank you,” she says into her shoulder. Elsea pats her back lightly. Not a hugger, definitely not a hugger. “That was almost a really damaging speech to my self-esteem, but I think you may have just given me the greatest pep talk of all time.”

 

Elsea pulls away.

 

“So you’re going to do it?” she asks, holding Anya at a shoulder’s length. She can’t believe it. Anya is going to tell Archie how she feels.

 

Anya takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, I guess I am. When should I do it?”

 

For some reason, Elsea finds this extremely exciting. Finally! Finally! The madness is going to end!

 

“Right fucking now, Anya!” Elsea cries, pushing her to the door. “Go up there and say, ‘Archie, I know this may seem completely random but I’ve liked you for a while and I just want you to know that.’”

 

Anya cringes, hand on the doorknob.

 

“Are you sure that’s good? What about ‘Archie I know this may seem completely random but I’ve liked you for a while and I wanted to know if you felt the same way?’”

 

Elsea stares at her, not really sure of the difference, but nods.

 

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine. Just do it! Don’t overdraft or you’ll psych yourself out.”

 

Anya opens the door and steps out. “Okay…”

 

“Okay! Run to him. Go!” Elsea urges, nudging her forward. Anya giggles, walking away from the door.

 

“I said run!” Elsea shouts again, she means it. Anya is laughing, lightly jogging because as Elsea could imagine, she doesn’t want to get sweaty.

 

She closes the door once Anya is out of sight, running and jumping into her bed and sighing. That was a headache and a half, she decides, pulling a pillow over her head. Now if only Remus would _bloody call_.

 

-.-

 

Remus only got back from visiting his parents two hours ago and he’s already got a headache.

 

“James is positively a _nightmare_.”

 

“Well what the hell do you want me to do about it?” Remus bites back. He and Sirius are huddled in the first floor toilet at James’ house, hiding. Well, mostly Remus was having a piss, and Sirius shoved his way into the room.

 

“I dunno,” Sirius turns to look at himself in the mirror, running a hand through his shaggy black hair, “anything, something. He listens to you.”

 

Remus, who has now finished peeing, zips up his trousers and turns to look at Sirius. The bathroom is too small for this; he has to literally elbow Sirius away from the mirror in order to wash his hands. “I haven’t been here all week. You’re the one who’s noticed it.”

 

“Please don’t tell me you _haven’t noticed it_ , Moony.” Sirius gets shoved towards the toilet as Remus runs his hands under the warm water. “I mean, when you got back this morning he barely lifted a finger. You know he loves hugging you. He just sat there, face in his cereal, glaring. Ugh, he’s worse than Moaning Myrtle at this point.”

 

Remus can’t agree with that bit, no one is worse than Moaning Myrtle. But James really is a true nightmare. After they got to the pub a few days ago, he drank one beer and booked it early. When Remus got back to their room, he was just laying in bed awake, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t even say ‘hello’ or ‘goodnight,’ which is exceptionally odd considering the fact that James doesn’t ever shut the fuck up. His favorite thing in the world? Other than quidditch and Lily Evans? Pillow talk. The bloke bloody loves pillow talk.

 

“Have you tried asking what’s wrong?” Remus asks, drying his hands on Sirius’ black jumper. “Wasn’t it just last week you were telling me that you and James have an open relationship in which you know every little thing about each other?”

 

Sirius shrugs it off and steps in front of the mirror again. He fixes his hair a second time. “I tried asking him if he wanted a joint or a bowl, and he nearly hexed me into the last century. I’m not about to ask him what’s got his knickers in a twist. No thank you. I very much so value my testicles.”

 

“That’s stupid,” Remus says, pushing past Sirius and attempting to open the door. “Can you move?”

 

“Why is it stupid?”

 

“Because he’s James. He’s probably waiting for you to ask. Now move, so we can resolve this damned issue and enjoy the break, yeah?”

 

Sirius looks a bit pathetic. He turns to Remus, grabs him by the shoulders, and says, “But what if I don’t wanna?”

 

“Piss off, Padfoot.” Remus shoves him back and, in his spare moment, scrambles to open the door. But Sirius has quidditch reflexes that Remus does not, and instead, it becomes an extremely amateur wrestling match in which Sirius tries to push Remus to the ground and Remus tries to kick him in the shins.

 

“Get off!” Remus cries, elbowing whatever he can.

 

Sirius is laughing, annoyingly so, and starts tickling Remus’ sides. “Come on, say Uncle!”

 

“I’m not James, you bastard!” Remus shouts, finally laying one hard elbow into Sirius’ chest. “I don’t like play fighting.”

 

As Sirius relinquishes his hold on Remus, he mutters, “Buzz kill.”

 

“What are you even trying to do? Hang out in the bathroom?” Remus asks, catching his breath. He tries to fix his hair, but remembers that his hair is a lost cause.

 

“I want you to miss Elsea’s call,” Sirius says. “It’s my secret plot to break you two up. I’m still waiting on Anya, remember, you’re supposed to match your moods with mine?”

 

“Well you don’t have to worry about that yet, so.”

 

“I don’t?” Sirius looks entirely nonplussed. “Why not - Oh! I see. Nice, you’re playing the game, Moons. Just like I said to at the bar.”

 

Remus’ face heats and he yanks open the bathroom door. “No, dumbarse, I still haven’t gotten her owl yet. I’m waiting for her number.”

 

“Ah, so now she’s making _you_ sweat. Classic change up.” Sirius chuckles, following him out into the living area where James is lying on the sofa, tossing his golden snitch up and down. “Oi, Prongs, did you know Moony hasn’t called Holmes yet?”

 

James rolls his head to the side. “That blows.”

 

Remus glares at the both of them and settles into an armchair in which the Potter’s family cat, Mr. Gryffindor, is resting on the armrest. Really a brilliant name by James on that one. But the cat is nice enough, and he runs his fingers through its long ginger fur as James looks actually upset at something, for once.

 

“It’s not that big a deal,” Remus explains, “she just hasn’t sent me her phone number yet.”

 

“Well why don’t you owl her and get it?” James asks. He looks mad. Really mad. More mad than is warranted. “You’re being an idiot, Moony.”

 

“Because she told me _she’s_ going to send it, Prongs,” Remus fires back. He doesn’t need the extra attitude. “I don’t want to seem clingy, you know?”

 

Sirius settles on the on the floor, too afraid to squeeze in next to James. “You think it’s clingy to owl a girl one letter? You’re crazy.”

 

“I’m not like you, Sirius,” Remus says, scratching behind Mr. Gryffindor’s ears. “I don’t go back to my room every night and write a detailed account of my day to send to Darzi.”

 

No one laughs, because James is no longer fun and the joke is at Sirius’ expense.

 

“Whatever,” Sirius says. There is no follow up. The air in the room is stale and dull. James is rubbing out a smudge in his snitch and doesn’t even seem to care if he’s there or not. And Remus isn’t one that needs constant attention, but being ignored by James is just eerie. Especially because James is the most overly attentive person Remus has ever met.

 

He’s just going to do it. He’s going to ask what’s wrong.

 

“So, James.” Remus asks. This is his least favorite thing to do. “What’s going on you with you, man? You’re being weird.”

 

Sirius lets out a puff of relieved air. Remus shoots him a look that is completely lost on him.

 

James, meanwhile, doesn’t look up from the snitch. Instead he shrugs and sniffles.

 

“What do you mean, Moony?” he asks, voice flat. “I’m the same as always.”

 

Remus stares at James for a long time. They don’t break eye contact; James’ expression is blank and not very reassuring. Remus waits. He can sense Sirius growing more and more uncomfortable from his little corner of the room. He’s practically melting into his jumper.

 

“I have a feeling you’re not being sincere,” Remus says slowly. This is a careful line to walk. James isn’t often upset, but when he is, it’s like an explosion waiting to happen. Remus isn’t sure if this is one of those times, or maybe it’s a time where James will burst into tears. Either way, it involves a highly emotional James Potter, and Remus isn’t exactly good with that sort of thing.

 

James doesn’t flinch. “Do you think I’m acting different? Because if you do, please, explain.”

 

“Well,” Remus scratches the back of his head in an effort to buy himself some extra time, “Sirius and I have been noticing-”

 

“-oh, so this is you, too?” James asks, head whirling around to glare at Sirius. Sirius looks at Remus with an expression that can only say _how could you do this to me, you raging twat_? “What, can’t speak for yourself?”

 

“Look mate,” Sirius holds his hands up in defense, “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

 

“By talking about me in the toilets with Remus? Yeah, I could hear you lot, bloody idiots.”

 

Remus’ ears turn pink in embarrassment. James won’t take his eyes off of his snitch. He’s cracked something open here, just barely, but he knows that poking at James in this situation won’t get very far. He has to want to talk about it. Remus and Sirius can’t pull it out of him.

 

“We’re just a little worried about you,” Remus says, trying a different tactic. “But if there’s nothing up, I believe you.”

 

He searches desperately within him for something to distract them all. What is something that James would love to do regardless of his mood?

 

“How about we go outside?” Sirius offers, catching Remus’ angle.

 

“It’s snowing,” James retorts coolly.

 

“Prongs,” Sirius says, pretending to be aghast, “snow quidditch is your favorite sport, is it not?”

 

James scoffs. “It’s not.”

 

“Well then how about a snowball fight?” Remus offers, standing up. He knows that if he gets moving maybe Sirius will follow, at least. “James, me you against Sirius.”

 

Sirius groans. “No way, mate. Not fair.”

 

To Remus’ surprise, James actually brightens at that - but only for a split second.

 

“Okay, yeah.” James speaks as if he’s trying to hype himself up. “I can do that. Sirius, we’re going to give you a head start right now but we’re not going to go easy on you once we’re outside.”

 

Sirius glares at the two of them before shaking his head and walking away. “I want no less than ten minutes. Arsehats.”

 

Once Sirius is out of the room. Remus wanders over to James and picks the snitch out of his hand.

 

“Hey,” James says, irritated.

 

“Let’s get moving.” Remus urges, kneeing him in the side. He uses his wand to accio his coat and scarf and a pair of gloves and starts pulling them all on.

 

“I thought we’re giving him a head start.”

 

Remus smiles mischievously. “Eh, rather not.”

 

“Well he’s getting one whether we like it or not,” James says, inching up. “All my stuff is in my room, and-”

 

“I’ll get it for you,” Remus says before James can get up. “I’m already standing.”

 

As Remus rushes out of the room, he hears James flop back down to the couch and mumble something along the lines of ‘fine, whatever.’

 

Once Remus is finally standing in the doorway of James room, he sees the scarf and coat on the floor and summons it.

 

“ _Accio James’ scarf_.”

 

It flies towards him sloppily, knocking over a clutter of paper on his bedside table. Remus considers picking it up as he catches the scarf, having that James is in a mood and might actually get angry with him for making a mess. But then he sees something bizarre in the pile on the floor. He sees his name.

 

Stepping towards it tactfully, he manages not to make any other mess as he crouches to the floor and picks up the envelope. “ _For Remus Lupin,_ ” it reads. He recognizes the handwriting immediately.

 

“What the fuck,” he says to himself, tearing it open and sitting quickly on the floor.

 

_Dear Remus,_

 

_I hope this didn’t get lost! The Blackwaters only let me use one of their old faulty owls. Elitists. Anyway, here is the number. Call me as soon as you get this! This mansion is so bloody boring. Anya actually told me to tell you that she send her ‘regards’ to Sirius. Please don’t pass that message along. I’m going to keep this brief because phone calls are better. Hope to hear from you within the next 24 hours._

 

_Best,_

 

_Elsea_

 

Remus feels warm all over. His favorite part of the whole letter is that just above her signature there is several things crossed off, including “yours” “sincerely” “wishing you the best” and his personal favorite “miss you.” But then as he looks at the date in the top right corner he just gets upset.

 

“ _JAMES_!” he roars. James has no response. So Remus simply kicks James’ pile of clothes into the corner of the room and storms out, into the hallway and down the stairs. Once he’s standing in front of James in the living area, he’s positively boiling with anger. And he’s not really sure why.

 

“What’s up your butt?” James asks.

 

He holds out the letter in front of him, eyes wide.

 

“Why did you keep this from me?” Remus asks. “Are you a sociopath?”

 

“I don’t know, I must’ve forgotten about it. Why are you flipping out?”

 

James doesn’t look slightly bothered by this. All he does is fiddle with that stupid golden snitch.

 

“Because there is something _wrong_ with you,” Remus confronts. “And you won’t tell us what it is.”

 

“Wow, Remus, believe it or not - worrying about your romantic life is not all I do. I have my own problems, you know,” James says, still lounging. Remus has half a mind to ask him to square up right now, maybe push him over the couch and stomp on his stupid quidditch prizes. Instead, Mr. Gryffindor meows loudly and pads out of the room.

 

“That is not what this is about,” Remus continues. He’s not going to let James throw him off with low blows. “You’re acting like a prick. And all sad, and distant. I’m asking you as a friend just explain to me what the hell your fucking problem is because there better be a good enough explanation for this.”

 

James lets out a cool laugh; rolling over to his head and meeting Remus’ glare head on.

 

“You really want to know?” he challenges, “Because there is a good chance that you won’t want to be my friend once you do.”

 

Remus actually furrows his brow. What?

 

“Prongs, unless you gutted a pure unicorn as a proclamation of support for You-Know-You and drank its blood, I’m going to stand by you. I’m not exactly the model for morality and good choices.”

 

He has a flashback to not two months ago when he literally scratched James’ eye out.

 

“No, I don’t think you get it. This is bad.”

 

“James.”

 

“Bad, Remus.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

James sighs; he rolls over on the sofa, buries his head in his hands and lets out a muffled scream. Remus’ stomach is in complete knots. He’s not been this worried for a friend ever. Ever. He has no idea what James is about to say, but he’s sincerely frightened.

 

“Lily and I had sex.”

 

Remus almost doesn’t catch it. James mumbles it from behind his hands.

 

“You, what?”

 

“Lily and I. We had sex.”

 

Remus blinks. He blinks again and lets his words settle over him. “Uh, okay. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So then what’s the problem?”

 

“I don’t remember it. Neither does she. And… I, uh, uh…”

 

It’s then that it hits him. Remus feels a wave of nausea wash over him. Oh my _god_. “James, you didn’t, she….no, tell me how it went.”

 

“That’s the _problem,_ ” James looks up at him then, eyes bloodshot and tired, “I can’t remember. Fucking. Can’t. Remember. Anything. At all. I remember waking up with Lily, naked, next to me. Sobbing.”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Remus says, and he doesn’t believe it. “Do you remember anything? She had to have said yes, I mean, James, I know you. You wouldn’t--”

 

James looks sick. “She won’t talk to me. She left right away after I tried to talk to her. All she kept saying is that ‘everything is ruined.’ She avoided me on the train. I’ve sent her fifteen letters this week. Fifteen. She hasn’t responded to any. Except one. This one.”

 

He stands up and fishes a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. He hands it to Remus, who tries to straighten it out on his knee. It reads:

 

_James,_

 

_What happened between us was a decision on both our parts, just not a very good one. I don’t think it’d be wise of us to talk about it this way, so for now I’d like it if you stopped trying to contact me. My parents are getting suspicious. I need some space._

 

_Lily_

 

“It was accidental sex,” Remus tells him, as he glances at the letter once more. Short. Sweet. “It happens. Willa and I--”

 

“Willa wasn’t telling you that she didn’t want to have sex until marriage. Willa wanted to have sex with you and expressed it. Lily and I had sex. And even if she wanted to in the moment, she regrets it now. And she hates me.”

 

“She doesn’t hate you.”

 

“But _I_ hate me.” James replies. “It’s just really shitty that I have no idea how it happened. We finally have sex and it’s in the most awful way possible. I feel like past me was just… I was such a dick.”

 

“Listen, in the letter she said you both made the decision. All you can do is give her that space but I think, personally, this is fixable. If you and Lily actually love each other things should work out. And if it doesn’t, remember, it’s fine. Everything is going to be fine.”

 

Remus doesn’t know how the universe could’ve switched so that he’s giving relationship advice. Remus Lupin: Couples Counselor. He’s only been running from his problems his entire life. But it doesn’t feel too good. Honestly, he feels like he really owes one to James.

 

“Come on,” Remus urges, “let’s go have a snowball fight. Moping around is only going to make it worst.”

 

-.-

 

Elsea wakes up at noon rather angry with herself. First, and most important, she forgot to brush her teeth or change into pajamas after screaming at Anya last night. Second, she hates sleeping too late. _Especially_ when she’s on vacation. Every day must be savored. With that in mind, she quite literally jumps out of bed and takes the quickest, scalding shower of her life. That’s when it hits her - something is _off_.

 

Wiping the left over mascara from her cheeks, Elsea notices the house is dead silent. Usually either Anya or Archie would’ve barged into her room by now, listing the day’s activities and refusing to leave even though she isn’t wearing a bra yet. Clearly, no one has barged it. No one has even slipped a note under her door.

 

Did they leave without her?

 

“What the...” Elsea mutters to herself, quickly tossing on her favorite burgundy jumper and heading out of her room and down the grand staircase.

 

Sliding on the marble floors into the kitchen Elsea sees Archie sitting alone, reading the paper, and shoveling Cheerios into his mouth at a rapid pace. She stares at him for a good minute before barking out a small, shrill, “ _Morning_.”

 

He looks up slowly, unfazed.

 

“Oh hey,” Archie says, mouth full. “Morning Bitch Face.”

 

Elsea stares at Archie until she’s sitting across from him.

 

“Isn’t weird that they don’t have cereal at Hogwarts?” Archie asks. He doesn’t even care that Elsea is having a moment. “Like they have everything from Canadian bacon to Eggs Benny, but you can’t just have a simple bowl of Cheerios.”

 

“You should really bring that issue up to Dumbledore.”

 

“I mean _really_ ,” Archie continues, either ignoring her or taking her comment very seriously, “cereal is the breakfast food of the future. I bet witches and wizards in The States ingest this shit like… like… well you know something you eat often.”

 

Elsea honestly could care less. She doesn’t even like cereal, it’s dry and milk is disgusting. Plus, there are more pressing matters to discuss.

 

“Where's Anya?” she asks.

 

Archie shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know. Thought she was with you?”

 

She narrows her eyes. “We don’t share a room.”

 

He nods. “Oh.”

 

There is a pause, Archie starts chewing louder and pulls the Daily Prophet very close to his face. When he speaks, his voice sounds higher than usual. Forced. A tell tale sign of Archie Blackwater bullshitting. “Did you know that Hogwarts takes higher security precautions than Gringotts?”

 

She shakes her head and speaks very lowly. “What did you do to her?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Archie answers too quickly. He’s now completely covering his face with the paper. “Did what to who?”

 

“What did you do? To Anya.”

 

He clears his throat and Elsea suddenly notices his hands, which are gripping the Prophet very tightly, are visibly shaking. “I didn’t do anything… I swear.”

 

The Minister of Magic, who is seen on the front page, tearfully listing the names of the latest victims of You Know Who and his men, blinks up at her.

 

“ _Blackwater_.” Elsea seethes, ripping the paper from his hand. He is bright red, redder than she’s ever seen him in her life. “What the ever living _fuck_ did you to Anya?”

 

He sighs. He looks terrified.

 

“How much do you already know?” he asks, chewing on his lip. His handsome face looks so _scared_.

 

Elsea’s eyes widen. She’s not sure what happened, but if Archie actually rejected Anya after all she went through she might just throw herself off the roof of the Blackwater Estate.

 

“She went up to your room,” Elsea explains hurriedly. “What did you say to her.”?

 

“Um,” Archie starts, clearing his throat again. “Well, she sat on the end of my bed and told me she had to tell me something. I got nervous, because it was literally the middle of the night and she woke me up, so I just told her to tell me tomorrow. Then she was all like, ‘No, Archie, it can’t wait any longer.’ So I told her to go on and she…”

 

Archie trails off. He looks disturbed.

 

“Archie,” Elsea snaps. “What did she say?”

 

“Anya…” Archie begins. “She just kind of leaned in and _kissed_ me. Like full on, on the mouth. I was so surprised that I pushed her away. I don’t know, it scared me.”

 

Elsea scoffs. “You got scared because a girl kissed you?”

 

“I got scared because it was _Anya_. I didn’t expect that from her. So I kind of like, nudged her away, asked what she was doing. And then she started going on about how she liked me for years and couldn’t keep it from me any longer especially now that we’re _close friends_ and everything and I- _Elsea_. Oh my god, I fucked up. I really fucked up.”

 

Elsea moves closer. She’s never found Anya-Archie drama entertaining, but there is a first for everything. She has to know every detail. “What did you say to her?”

 

Archie looks distraught as he buries his head in his hands. “I, uh, well, you see… I…”

He mumbles something that Elsea can’t decipher.

 

“What’d you say? Move your hands.”

 

Archie shakes his head, moving his hands off his face but still staring down at the table.

 

“I laughed.”

 

No.

 

“You _what_?” Elsea feels herself blush.

 

“I laughed. I laughed and I told her that she can’t be serious.”

 

Elsea covers her mouth with her hand and actually gasps. Worse case scenario occurred. “No you didn’t…”

 

“Well she _couldn’t have been,”_ Archie explains. “I mean, look at us. I’m me and she, she’s - she’s _her_. How could she have liked me? It doesn’t make any sense… So after I said that she nodded her head and asked me if I think that it’s that funny. And I said no, but I couldn’t stop. My god, I was like, hysterical laughing Elsea. I had tears.”

 

“You know you’re the worst, right?”

 

“I know, I know. It just really threw me off and I was still completely baked from smoking before dinner. But it gets worse. After that _she_ started crying for real, like Maeve level hysterics. At that point I was completely powerless… so I _tried_ to comfort her but she wouldn’t even let me go near her. _Merlin_ , and then, when I realize I was so fucked up, I started spouting that stuff you told me the other day, you know, about dating yourself before you can really be in a relationship with someone? I was like, “You know, Elsea told me that I need to love myself first,” and for some reason that really set her off. She started to _sob_. It was horrible…. And then after a few seconds she started laughing? It was completely insane. The tables had turned Elsea, I turned them and it backfired and it was terrifying.”

 

Elsea’s face is a mixture of utter disbelief and complete horror. She can’t speak. She has nothing else to say. Her fingers grip the back of the chair and her knuckles turn white.

 

“I backtracked again, then, tried to explain how a sexual relationship would ruin our friendship, you know, that bullshit I hear Maddox tells girls all the time. And then, sure enough, Anya just stood up and walked out. Calmly. I thought she went back to talk to you or something. I actually figured you both would have been gone this morning. Or that I’d be dead.”

 

Archie is tapping his fingers against the table, cereal now soggy as he stares at Elsea, waiting.

 

“So she’s just gone?” is the first thing Elsea manages to ask. “Did you check the house?”

 

Archie nods. “I had Dipsy check around for her. He just came back to me and was like _Master Stinky is sleeping soundly, but Master Anya is gone. Her things too. I know this because she took her favorite rainbow sweater with the unicorn_.” Archie’s voice gets weirdly high when he speaks as Dipsy.

 

“Why did you do that?” Elsea asks intently. “Why the bloody hell did you say no to Anya? You know she’s like, _hilariously_ out of your league.”

 

Archie shakes his head, looking down at the table. “I just didn’t think it was real. I really couldn’t believe it. And when it hit me and that like, no sane person makes jokes like that, it was sort of too late.”

 

“But do you not like her?”

 

“I don’t know.” Archie explains. “Either way, we both know I couldn’t give her what she wants. Which is why I thought she was acting insane. I mean, look at the whole Maeve Daniels situation. Anya had a front row seat for all of that. She’s had a front row seat to everything.”

 

“But really, Arch, we all know Anya is far from sane,” Elsea replies. “But, in other news, I’m so damn glad this is all out in the open now. I’ve been trying to hide this from you for years. Fucking years, Arch.”

 

Archie blinks at her. “Years?”

 

Well, she might have fucked that up again. Was she supposed to say that? What are the rules? What did Anya tell him?

 

“Yeah. Years, Archie. I think that’s the reason she became friends with me sometimes.”

 

Archie looks completely dumbfounded. “This makes… no sense…”

 

“Tell me about it!” Elsea replies, probably too quickly.

 

“Well I guess she’s going to be with Black for real now,” Archie says, cringing. “God, I hate that even more than I did before.”

 

“Gross,” Elsea replies automatically. Though she’s not sure being with Archie would have been much better.

 

“Life sucks,” Archie mumbles, incredibly dramatic, and shoves his cereal bowl away from him. “What am I going to do now? Anya could’ve been my _girlfriend_. _Merlin_.”

 

She doesn’t know what to say. What does she say? Did she just ruin Anya’s life? Does she even care? Elsea is a whirlwind of emotions, and all she can think about is that Remus Fucking Lupin still hasn’t called her.

 

“You know what,” Elsea says, this time feeling an angry twist in her stomach. “Fuck this. Fuck romance. Fuck all of that. Let’s go smoke till our brains liquefy and pour out our ears. Lets see something at the cinema!”

 

Archie nods his head slowly before standing up.

 

“Yeah, that sounds good. Lets go see something with a lot of blood.”

 

Elsea nods her head. Even though she’s not particularly into action, it fits the mood. As she reaches for Archie’s bowl, somehow intent on doing his dishes for him, a loud _CRACK!_ startles her as Dipsy suddenly appears standing on the middle of the table.

 

“Master Stinky,” he says, grabbing the bowl from her, “the ringing dark magic machine is for you.”

 

“What?” both her and Archie exclaim.

 

“You know,” Dipsy waves his hand about. “The thing that goes, _ring ring ring ring_ , and then person? Obviously very dark magic.”

 

Elsea’s eyes widen. “Oh!” she cries, smacking her hands on the table. Her heart races, her stomach twists. “The phone! Remus,” she turns to Archie, desperate, “I think Remus is calling me.”

 

Archie’s expression darkens a bit, but with a flick of his wrist he says, “Go on, we’ll smoke up after. I’ll pack us a bowl.”

 

Elsea runs up the stairs, thanking Dipsy and kissing him on the head. As she reaches the phone, the only thing she can think is _finally finally finally_.

 

“Hello?” Elsea says, her voice too high pitched.

 

“Elsea?” Remus replies.

 

She’ll never admit it, but her heart starts racing for real.

 

Elsea sighs. “You prick,” she accuses, laughing even though she doesn’t want to be. “I can’t believe you made me wait. Again.”

 

Remus laughs. It’s the nicest thing she’s heard in years.

 

“I know, I’m a piece of shit. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. You won’t believe what’s been happening here, though. Absolutely insane.”

 

Elsea scoffs. “I bet what’s happening _here_ is worse.”

 

“You wanna bet, Holmes?”

 

“Yeah. I actually do.”

 

“Okay, okay. You go first. I’ll settle in.”

 

And so Elsea curls the cord around her finger, leans against the wall, and tells Remus all about her last few days, feeling happy just to hear his laughter on the other end.


	21. We've Got A Groovy Thing Goin' Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s learned through her experience with dealers that it is much more effective belittling them when Archie’s there to pepper in some classic petty jabs. Elsea is Diana Ross, Archie is, well, whoever the other two are in The Supremes.

Elsea and Archie step out onto the Hogwarts Express and are instantly hit with a series of worst-case scenarios. First one: Anya sitting in the first compartment next to the Heads office, looking out the tiny window at the exact same time that the two of them are looking in. Elsea is unsure of whether or not Anya has put her on the shit list along with Archie, but she’s not about to go up and ask. Especially with Archie cringing and sweating next to her like a cow. So Elsea waves weakly, smiling at her like she’s a professor she just saw at the supermarket rather than her best friend.

 

“I’m gonna sit over there,” Archie says almost so quickly and quietly that Elsea doesn’t catch it. She looks at him to argue ‘nonsense!’ for a moment, but the train jerks to a start, and Anya is opening her compartment door and Archie is nowhere in sight.

 

After that the next horrible thing happens, Because sitting in Anya’s compartment isn’t one of their array of random, irrelevant Ravenclaw friends that Anya’s only made idle chatter with in the dormitory. No, instead sits  _ Lily Bloody Evans _ .

 

“Oh.” She can’t help herself, she’s shocked. Lily doesn’t look too pleased herself. “Hi,” she says curtly, sitting down next to Anya - who can’t be as clueless as she acts. 

 

Lily only lifts the corner of her mouth. “Hi Elsea, how was your holiday?”

 

Elsea is tempted to challenge, shoot back an ‘ _ oh, as if you give a shit, Lily Evans _ ’ but sustains. “I’m sure Anya could tell you all about it,” she says instead, offering Anya a peaceful yet forced smile.

 

She’s surprised to see how little Anya reacts.

 

“Well not all, I left the Blackwater’s a couple of days early to see my family. My older sister just got engaged, isn’t that amazing?” Anya coos, looking from Elsea to Lily. Lily reacts with over-the-top excitement, squealing and clapping like a little fool. Or at least, that's what it looks like where from where Elsea’s is sitting. It also looks like Anya has made the executive to decision to not talk about Archie right now or possibly ever. Which is something Elsea is more than fine with, as long as she’s okay with hanging out just the three of them again. 

 

Elsea may act ambivalent to Anya and Archie’s presence most of the time, but she knows she’d probably be sitting alone at lunch if the two of them didn’t silently agree to be The Official Elsea Holmes Support System. If they separate who knows how effective they’ll be? Remus can’t handle her alone, and plus, he’s just a  _ boyfriend _ . As much as she’d like to believe they’re going to have eight kids and holiday in Ibiza one day, that rarely happens to people who meet in Hogwarts. Elsea is not about to put all of her eggs in that basket.

 

“What’d you do, Lily?” Elsea asks, because she’s being awkward and silent and becoming friends with Lily Evans might just be the harsh new reality of the day. “Over the holidays?”

 

Lily looks momentarily surprised by Elsea’s friendliness.

 

“Oh, just went home to my parents. Nothing special,” she explains. Elsea can see that she is visibly uncomfortable, her fingers twitching in her lap. Lily’s perfectly prepped hair is tied up in a curled ponytail, and she keeps twirling the ends around her finger. “I was going to see Mary, but she’s poorly.”

 

“She has  _ mono _ ,” Anya whispers, as if there’s someone else in the compartment. “We all know where that came from.  _ The kissing disease _ .”

 

Elsea doesn’t care about that. Elsea wants to know how Anya is doing, you know, after being rejected by the biggest man-whore this side of the Atlantic. “So Anya,” Elsea beings, pushing her hair away from her eyes and fixing her gaze on her friend, “how was the rest of your break?”

 

Anya doesn’t even flinch when she says, “Oh  _ fine _ . Mum made us the most amazing feast and my sister Divya--”

 

Anya proceeds into a story that is not even the slightest bit interesting. Elsea regrets asking her immediately. She crosses and uncrosses her legs as Anya speaks, and suddenly feels desperately lonely. Anya was right, she totally ruined her friendship with Archie, and in turn, is making Elsea’s social life a lot more difficult. 

 

So she picks at a run in her new tights and then folds and unfolds the hem of her new skirt. Her parents shipped her out some clothes from California - cute clothes, the kinds that celebrities in L.A. wear. Elsea heard from Stan that he got a bunch of new socks and t-shirts. Her parents really know them well.

 

“And that’s why I’ve got this burn mark!” Anya finishes, pointing to a miniscule darker spot on her right hand. 

 

“Fascinating!” Elsea cries out, a little too loudly. Lily fixes her with a cool gaze. She quickly adds, “So, uh, what were you two talking about before I came in?”

 

Lily looks at her, as if she should’ve known already. “Well the fact that everyone is bloody stoned out of their minds, for starters.”

 

“What?”

 

This is when the third worst-case scenario comes into play. 

 

Elsea, confused but also terrified, turns to Anya. “What does that mean?”

 

“Didn’t you see it? Not one eye on this train isn’t bloodshot to hell. I’m pretty sure Frank and Alice are secretly high as kites in their little compartment right now. They were being so shady at the platform,” Lily explains, staring at Anya in disbelief. “You know, I thought that they might be some of the last sane people I knew here. Now I guess that just leaves you.” 

 

Elsea opens her mouth to speak but is cut off when Lily says, “And you too, Elsea. I mean, I didn’t mean that. I just - I  _ really _ don’t understand what has happened here. It’s like we got on to the bus and five minutes later everyone is popping pills and blazing up like the High Roller is having some sort of going out of business sale. Hell, maybe he is.”

Elsea almost corrects her with her usual,  _ you know, the High Roller might be a girl _ but doesn’t, because Lily is far better at picking up these little things than Anya is.

 

Going out of business sale? That’s definitely  _ not _ Elsea’s doing. And what the bloody hell is everyone doing stoned out of their wits on the Hogwarts express? That’s an event that only the biggest, most seasoned potheads partake in. Not some ameteur Hufflepuff third years that have never smoked weed in their lives. This is not the time or place to try it. 

 

“That’s… bizarre,” Elsea admits. Lily and Anya nod at her approvingly. “Here? Are they  _ trying _ to get in trouble? Who the fuck is responsible for this?”

 

“Exactly!” Anya practically hollers in agreement. She’s staring at Elsea as if she’s finally made the breakthrough she’s been working towards all these years. “This is why the High Roller has to be stopped. People are losing their bloody minds left and right, brains cells obliterated by the hundreds, all for what? A little fun? An escape? Read a book!”

 

That’s where Elsea chooses to stop talking. She’s only slightly liar, not a  _ pathological _ liar. This is dangerous grounds for her to tread.

 

Lily snaps her fingers in agreement. 

 

“Preach,” she says to Anya, like it’s church or something. “The worst of all of this though is that this is our  _ future _ . Next year, all the people that applied to auror school - which is like, 80% of the Gryffindor house and 40% average of the others - are going to be fighting You-Know-Who. This is  _ serious _ . These poor kids are going to have half a brain and a substance problem when put to battle. It’s just… not right… I’d hate to see anyone I know go down because they have a cacophony of inner demons to fight…”

 

She trails off, clearly her mind drifting elsewhere. Strangely, Elsea feels a small, discomforting sense of guilt flood over her. If it really is as mad as they are saying outside of this cart right now, it’s Elsea’s fault. She’s the one who brought weed to Hogwarts in the first place. And ludes. Even if it’s not ‘The High Roller’ selling to the Hogwarts students and it’s those Red Eye posers, Elsea is still responsible.

 

She has to leave. This is awful train chatter.

 

“I’m gonna go check in with Archie,” Elsea cuts the silence. Both Anya and Lily jump slightly. “I think he took my wallet in his bag.”

 

That’s a lie. But whatever, she needs to hang out with normal people.

 

“Want to come?” Elsea risks asking.

 

Anya stares at her as if she asked if she’d like to lick Marmite off Hagrid’s pinky toe.

 

“No, me and Lily have S.A.P.S. stuff to go over… you can go ahead though.” 

 

Elsea stands and puts her hand on the door. “Are you sure-”

 

“-Elsea I am 100% sure I don’t want to see Archie Blackwater right now or ever again. Please stop asking.”

 

There it is. There is the answer Elsea has been waiting for. It’s not what she wants to hear, though. Elsea almost wants to sit back down and place a comforting hand of Anya’s back, ask if she’s  _ really, really sure about this _ . But, well, the daggers in Anya’s eyes are telling her she better get the hell out of her cart if she wants to keep all of her limbs. 

 

“Ok,” Elsea breathes out. “Bye guys!”

 

Slamming the door shut behind her, Elsea makes her way through the hazy hall of the Hogwarts express. 

 

It is bad, like Lily said. The hall reeks and it’s way, way too loud. Almost like a Gryffindor house party, or worse, a  _ Death Day  _ party. Elsea cringes and thinks about the poor old lady who pushes the candy cart. She only has one hour of peace before every single stoner idiot with munchies asks for everything in stock. And yes, Elsea knows she’s one of those idiots. But at least she was doing it before it was cool.

 

Elsea finds Archie in a cart alone, laying on his back, hand on his stomach, looking at the ceiling like a sad little boy. She wants to hug him. What the fuck?

 

“Archie,” Elsea says harshly, flinging the door open hard. “What the shit are you doing?”

 

He sits up abruptly, rubbing his eyes. “What?”

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“I- nothing? I’m just-”

 

“Are you  _ okay? _ ”

 

“Yeah, yes,” Archie croaks, then clearing his throat. “Yeah I’m good. I was just… thinking.”

 

Elsea frowns, sitting across from him and staring, staring hard.

 

“ _ What? _ ” Archie asks, fake laughing. “I’m fine, I was just waiting for Maddox to come back with everyone so we can get this meeting going. Stop freaking out.”

 

“I’m not freaking out,” Elsea replies defensively. “Why are you being so defensive?”

 

“I’m not! You are, you just startled me,” he argues. “Whatever, lets drop this. I’ve been hearing rumors.”

 

Elsea hesitates to lean in. Why is it that when one friend finally releases their emotions the other one has to start acting like the star of their own romantic comedy? Why can’t they just be nice normal people, with good heads on their shoulders and weed to go around for all. She pushes it all into the back of her mind. Archie is hearing rumors, Archie, for once, wants to get down to business before she does. If that’s not incentive to pretend like nothing is wrong, then Elsea doesn’t know what is.

 

“What have you heard?”

 

“This Red Eye shit is getting out of hand. So...”

 

-.-

 

Remus goes on the train with the intention of finding Elsea, but is sorely surprised to find that it’s not going to happen. At least, not in the first hour.

 

James jumps on his back as they walk through the halls. Since the big confession (which had to be reiterated to Sirius later that night around 3:00 A.M.) James has gone from touchy and distant to emotional and way, way, way too close. Remus can’t push him away this time, however. Sirius and him both agreed that for the sake of James fragile ego in this fragile hour, they both have to somewhat coddle him. And if that means giving him an actual piggyback ride through the Hogwarts Express, so be it.

 

“Giddy up, Remoo,” James calls, waving one arm in the air. “Faster!”

 

Remus shakes his head, not changing his pace whatsoever. “You’re getting dangerously close to strange territory right now. I just want you to know that.”

 

“But that’s my favorite territory,” James replies. 

 

Peter, who just caught up with them moments ago, doesn’t notice anything different. “I’m glad to see nothing has changed over the break.”

 

Sirius laughs. “Nothing at all. Besides the fact that Moony is officially the new James, and I am completely over Anya Darzi.”

 

Remus rolls his eyes. The last night at James’ place they all decided it would be a good idea to get piss drunk ‘for real’ at the pub. That’s where Sirius met a girl named Angela (or Angelina, Remus is still unsure) and disappeared in the bathroom stalls for an hour. He came back sweaty and disheveled right before dragging everyone outside to puke. While he was between his third and fourth retch, he whispered James, “That was the best fuck of my life, who fuckin’ needs Anya Darzi when shit like that happens?”

 

Since then, Sirius has convinced himself that, “love is a lie” and “free love is the new current.” Remus knows it’s a front, Sirius is just a big softie who got his feelings hurt. But Merlin, anything is better than him pining over Anya Darzi. Even James is tired of it at this point. 

 

“I’m dropping you,” Remus rasps. “My knees are going to collapse.”

 

James jumps off. “Good, fine. I need to get myself prepared anyway,” he says, cracking his knuckles. 

 

Sirius nods seriously, “I think they’re in the next cart, I just saw Elsea walk out of there a few moments ago.” 

 

Remus refrains from any strong reactions. They already gave him enough shit after reading Elsea’s letter. 

 

Peter, however, waggles his brows. “Eh, Moony. Gonna go find her?”

James and Sirius smirk. “Yeah Moony,” Sirius teases. “Gonna go up to her and… kiss her?”

 

Remus scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Is that the best you got?” he asks. They crowd outside their usual compartment, which is currently inhabited by three nervous Hufflepuff first years. Remus knows that in less than two minutes James will scare them away.

 

Sirius shrugs. “I’m fresh out of Relsea jokes, to be honest. I think I used them all up last term. I mean, really, it’s taken you two  _ this bloody long _ to sort it all out. Non-stop on the phone for hours. Giggling. Whispering. It’s disgusting.”

 

Remus can’t help himself. He places a hand on Sirius’ shoulder and says, “Mate, you’re so jealous, aren’t you?”

 

Stiffly, Sirius replies, “Not at all.”

 

Remus, because he’s a Major Arsehole when it comes to Sirius, decides to push it. More for James’ sake than anyone else’s. “Because the way you keep making jokes, I don’t know mate, sort of seems like you’re jealous. Might just be me, though. Thoughts, Prongs? Wormtail?”

 

Sirius leans forward and socks Remus straight in the bicep. He collapses into the wall, in large amounts of pain, and instantly regrets being such a twat. His arm throbs and he remembers that Sirius is nine hundred times stronger than he is, no matter how “beefy” he gets (as James likes to put it). 

 

“Don’t be a dick, Moony,” Sirius says. “I’m not in the mood.”

 

It becomes clear to Remus now that the whole “match his moods up to his friends” thing is in play again. But he’s not in a bad mood, despite his arm hurting, and so he puts on his usual distressed expression and goes back to waiting for James to clear out their compartment.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

 

That’s when a wild Anya Darzi appears from the doorway of two compartments down, smiling and waving mad, like they’ve been friends all this time.

 

“Hey!” she hollers at Remus, who is so confused that he checks to make sure Elsea Holmes or literally anyone else isn’t standing behind him. “Remus!”

 

Oh god, she is talking to him. What the hell?

 

Sirius turns his head to see where all the fuss is coming from, his expression changing from slightly stressed to elated when he see’s Anya. Remus holds back the urge to yack everywhere, or tackle Sirius into the nearby compartment so as to save him from this Evil Witch.

 

“Hey!” he says, pushing past Remus and Peter to approach Anya. “Long time no see, eh?”

 

Anya giggles.

 

Peter whispers to Remus, “How was that funny?” 

 

“I know, too long,” Anya says, tucking her hair behind her ears. 

  
Remus is so confused. Wow, he’s never been this confused in his life. What happened over break? Elsea only vaguely went into the whole Archie/Anya mansion showdown, being that she’s Elsea and talks mostly about herself. In a cute way, though. 

 

It’s then that Anya leans against the wall and Sirius does that thing in the muggle movies where he rests one hand beside her head and hovers above her. Her body language is so flirtatious that Remus feels his breakfast rumbling in his stomach. Are they in some sort of alternate universe? James appears next to Remus, compartment forgotten, horrified.

 

“We need to break this up,” he says, elbowing Remus like it’s  _ his _ job, or something. “It’s unnatural.”

 

Remus shakes his head. “I’m not going over there,” he insists, pushing Peter towards the scene. “All you, buddy.”

 

Peter turns around, scowling at them.

 

“Come on guys,” he whines. “I don’t want to talk to her either. What if Elsea’s in the cart?”

 

“Don’t try to use Elsea as fish bait for Moony, Wormtail,” James warns. “Low blow.”

 

Remus crosses his arms. “Okay, fine. We’ll all go. But I’m not making any conversation, or anything. That’s on you two.”

 

James nods. “Fair enough. Let’s move.”

 

Two months ago they wouldn’t have thought two things about Sirius flirting with a cute Ravenclaw. But that’s before they knew Anya Darzi is probably the spawn of Satan or something. The hypocritical moral spawn of Satan, that is.

 

The three of them head over to Anya’s cart. Sirius is pulling all of his moves, Remus notices, he’s even talking about his  _ own _ Quidditch statistics. How did they even get in that conversation to begin with? James abruptly slips himself under Sirius’ arm, in the tiny toxic space between the two.

 

“Hiya,” he chirps, tickling Sirius’ armpit. “What’s going on, Darzi?”

 

“Oh, hi James!” Anya cries, jumping to hug him. Peter places his hand on his heart.

 

James pats her on the back, too nice to be outright rude. “Hi Anya,” he sounds strained, “how are you?”

 

“Brilliant, and you?”

 

“I’m doing just fine,” James says, scratching the back of his neck. Sirius looks murderous, glaring at Remus and Peter over Anya’s head. Remus only half shrugs. Peter pretends to count the tiles on the ceiling. 

 

Anya turns her gaze to Remus and Peter next, who are observing in the back and praying the attention doesn’t turn to them. “Remus, you look great. Elsea and I were just together.”

 

He opens his mouth to ask where she went, but he knows the answer. She’s definitely with Archie. 

 

“And… Peter, right?” Anya says. Merlin, she clearly knows Peter’s name, why is she being like this? “How are you?”

 

Peter, who obviously doesn’t give two shits about Anya Darzi, says, “No, it’s actually Severus.”

 

Anya blinks at him, once, twice, then just stares. A few moments later she bursts into faked, hysterical laughter and slaps Sirius on the chest. “Oh Sirius! Your friends are  _ so _ funny.”

 

Peter crosses his arms over his chest and says, “Thanks.”

 

“You guys should come in,” Anya says. “We have plenty of seats. Plus,  _ Lily’s _ inside, James.”

 

She does a small, nauseating, wink. James looks pale.

 

“Is she?” he says, his voice higher. Remus feels the need to scoop James up in his arms and carry him to safety. Sirius is too wrapped up in Darzi to notice, and no one has updated Peter on the situation yet. 

 

“Yes, yes! Go say hi!”

 

And then Anya is shoving all of them besides Sirius into the cart and James is standing over a pale, completely shocked Lily Evans. It all happened so fast.

 

“Hey, Lily,” James mumbles, looking at her like a crime scene. Remus feels so uncomfortable that he doesn’t know what to do.

 

Lily looks back down at the book she was reading.

 

“Hi James.”

 

The cart is completely silent. Remus turns to see Anya and Sirius still talking outside, two completely selfish gits. He can’t believe Sirius just did that after James was so upset all winter break. That’s completely unlike him.

 

“I-” James starts, clears his throat, and continues. “Do you want to-”

 

“-talk?” she asks, looking up from her book. Everything about her now is completely unreadable. Peter looks like he wants to transform into a rat and scatter. Remus now wishes he could wolf the fuck out and dive out the window of the moving train. 

 

“Yeah, talk.” James breathes. He wipes one of his eyes from under his glasses. Lily’s hardened expression softens ever so slightly.

 

“We can leave if you want,” Remus offers. He’d really like to get the fuck out of there. James just nods and Remus puts his hands on Peter’s shoulders and steers him out.

 

Once they’re into the hallway, Peter asks, “Where to, Chief?”

 

Remus blinks at him. “Look, mate, no hard feelings but I’m going to find Elsea.”

 

Peter narrows his eyes for a second and then shrugs. “Cool, I’d like to say hi to her.”

 

Remus stares, unsure if he’s being unintentionally stupid or serious right now. “No, Pete. What I’m trying to say is that I’m going to go find Elsea and you can’t come.”

 

Peter frowns. “Well damn, you didn’t have to be so straight-forward about it. I was going to find Ant anyway.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Antigone, remember? From the party?”

 

“The one that vomited on you?”

 

Remus hopes he’s wrong. 

 

“Yes!” Peter replies. “She’s a great girl. Just had a rough night.”

 

“Okay.” Remus nods his head. “Right. Good luck with that, then.”

 

-.-

 

“ _ Webb!!! _ ” Elsea is near yelling, and if they weren’t surrounded by teachers and students outside of this cart, she would be. “What do you fucking mean you lost an entire ounce of product? How do you lose a fucking ounce?”

 

Webb shrugs, shaking his head and looking at Hadley and Xavier for support. They’re looking at their shoes, rightfully, because unlike him, those two have a bit of brains. Elsea turns to look at Archie, waiting for him to deliver the usual 3rd degree to her 2nd degree burn. She’s learned through her experience with dealers that it is much more effective belittling them when Archie’s there to pepper in some classic petty jabs. Elsea is Diana Ross, Archie is, well, whoever the other two are in The Supremes. 

 

Archie doesn’t speak. He just is staring at the window like the soundtrack to The Graduate is playing softly in his head or something. Elsea wacks his arm. “Stop being so Simon and Garfunkel.”

 

“Huh? What? I’m  _ not _ .” he says. He wasn’t even paying attention. “What happened?”

 

“I don’t know,” Elsea seethes, gesturing towards Webb. “Why don’t you ask Webb?”

 

Archie stares at Webb blankly. “Well?”

 

“Okay! So I lost an ounce over break,” Webb announces, swallowing nervously. “It was an accident and I apologized-”

 

“-Yeah well you’re going to have to do a lot more than that,  _ buddy _ ,” Elsea argues.  “Right, Archie?”

 

Archie just shakes his head, looking at Webb like a disappointed parent rather than the angry sidekick that Elsea needs.

 

“Oh come on man,” he whines at Webb. “That’s a lot of weed. Especially in this economy.”

 

“Don’t be so loud,” Webb hisses, looking around the compartment that currently houses just Elsea and her sorry excuse for dealers. “I mean, honestly, people can hear.”

 

“I have a silencing charm on this compartment, you stupid fuck.” Elsea is fuming. She’s more than fuming, she’s close to exploding all over the compartment and splashing her dealers with her goopy organs. “You’d better pay me back in full for the ounce you lost or I’m going to have you hung from the goal posts by your  _ bloody fucking teeny tiny cock!” _

 

“Woah,” nearly all the males in the compartment exclaim together. 

 

Hadley is sitting by the window, legs crossed classily, and wearing her brand new clothes from Christmas. Her dark hair is parted perfectly down the middle and she looks a little bit too put together for Annabeth Hadley. Elsea turns to her now.

 

“And you.”

 

“What did I do?” Hadley responds calmly, looking at her nails as if being confronted by Elsea means literally nothing to her.

 

“I don’t know, but you did something.”

 

Maddox, who is lounging by the door, has a dopey looking grin on his face. “Look, mates, Holmes means business. You get her the shit and she won’t shit on you.”

 

“I’m not in the mood for you kissing my ass right now.” She whirls around and jabs her finger into Maddox’s chest. “You’re all such fucking imbeciles.”

 

Maddox raises his arms in the air. “Don’t drag me into this! I’ve done nothing wrong!”

 

“Really? Because sales have been down.” 

 

After sitting with Archie for a few minutes and talking over the Everyone On the Train is High thing, she calculated that her sales for December were so low, perhaps the slowest they’ve ever been. And it probably has something to with whatever the Red Eye is. “I blame you all. Why aren’t you making an effort, hm? What made you think you could slack?”

 

“Christmas time?” Xavier offers.

 

Elsea pulls out her wand. Archie grabs her by her forearms and wiggles it out of her hand. She’s not actually going to do anything, but Merlin, does it feel good to point that thing at him.

 

“ _ You are not getting a Christmas bonus this year _ ! And get ready for a decrease in your cut. A substantial one.”

 

The entire compartment groans. Elsea shrugs. “It’s not my fault! It’s yours. Who the hell is selling all this weed, hm? Who is doing it?”

 

“I dunno,” Xavier mumbles.

 

Hadley and Webb shrug. Maddox says, “Someone with a death wish.”

 

Elsea stares at them all. Her dealers are such a group of idiots. What was she ever thinking when she picked them? Webb is too full of himself to help with anything. Xavier is too stupid for his own good, honestly, how is he even a Ravenclaw? And Hadley is a power hungry bitch just like Elsea. Maddox, well, Maddox carries all their weight. Maybe she’s being a little unfair to Maddox. Whatever.

 

“Find out who it is,” she says. This is the part where she motivates them all. Scares them into submission with a damn good speech. Like she’s a Quidditch coach before the big match. Archie, who has been utterly useless thus far expect to keep her from committing murder, gives her an encouraging nod. “Get your lazy bums out there and figure it out. You’ve gotta-”

 

But as Elsea is about to launch into the speech of her career, the door slides open and a very lovely looking Remus steps inside.

 

“Oh, fuck,” he swears, cheeks turning a nice shade of pink that makes Elsea’s stomach twist, “sorry, oh fuck. I’ll just-”

 

“No!” Elsea lurches forward, standing and wrapping her arms around his bicep. “You can stay. They were just leaving, weren’t you all?”

 

“Yeah, as I was saying about our chess club…” Maddox starts. Elsea smirks and catches Remus’ eye. Her _ boyfriend’s _ eye.

 

“He’s fine, you can all leave now.”

 

The dealers file out without question. Hadley gives Remus a look that makes Elsea want rip her hair out with her fingers nails. Then it’s just Remus and Elsea.

 

And Archie.

 

He’s sitting on the seat staring out the window again. Remus has one hand around her waist and the other nervously pawing through his hair. She clears her throat. Archie doesn't look over.

 

She tries again. He still stares out the window.

 

“Archie!” she practically yells. He jumps.

 

“Oh.  _ Oh _ . Shit, hey. Ha, yeah. Sorry. Wow.”

 

Elsea and Remus stare at him. He stands up, wipes his hands on his jeans, and then walks towards the door. He has to go chest to chest to Remus in order to get past him. 

 

“I’ll catch you later, Els,” he says. And then he’s gone.

 

“That was… odd,” Remus says as the door closes behind Archie. He turns to look at Elsea. They both can’t stop smiling at each other. It’s almost gross, but Elsea can’t help it. She loves looking at him. The soft scars on his cheek, the way his mouth twists up on one side when he’s smiling. His  _ eyes _ . He’s so beautiful. Elsea thinks she loves him.

 

“He’ll be alright, I think it’s just Anya stuff,” she says, and then she wraps her arms around his neck to hug him. It makes her stomach twist and turn and when they pull apart, he sits on the seat and pats the spot next to him. 

 

“How was the rest of your holiday?” he asks, sitting her down next to him. 

 

“Oh fine, I visited Stan and Paisley for a couple days, made them clean their place. You know how it is.”

 

Remus just nods. “Sounds fun.”

 

Elsea nods. She curls up her legs beside her and Remus throws an arm around her shoulders. She rests her head on his chest and grabs a handful of his t-shirt. 

 

“I’ve missed you,” she mumbles quietly. It feels so good to be in his arms.

 

“I’ve missed you too.” He runs a hand through her hair. God, if she could just freeze time.

 

She tilts her head up to look at him. Remus is staring at her lips. So she stretches up to meet his in a kiss. It’s sweet and lovely and just right. But soon it’s not so sweet anymore, as Remus pulls her onto his lap.

 

Elsea wraps one arm around his neck and uses her other hand to hold his cheek. They’re kissing, faster and faster by the second. Remus squeezes her tight, like he can’t pull her close enough. His kisses are sweet, but they really are making up for lost time. Months and months of tiptoeing around each other and now they’re finally  _ here _ . They’re here, snogging in a compartment on the train, needy and wanting.

 

She doesn’t think. They’re kissing and kissing and soon she’s on her back and he’s got her shirt off of her. His hands are roaming her chest and his face is buried in her neck, kissing and flicking his tongue. She moans a little and stares up at the ceiling.

 

This is it. This is heaven. She could die here, with Remus, and never regret a thing. 

 

“I want you so badly,” she says, wrapping her fingers around her hair and arching her back. “Please.”

 

“We can’t do it here,” Remus mumbles, though she can feel from the hardness in his trousers that he most certainly wants her too. “I want you too, Elsea, I do.”

 

She laughs, and he laughs, and then they’re kissing again. She wants to feel him,  _ all of him, _ and so she slips her hand into his trousers and wraps it around him. Remus grunts, and she laughs again, and then kisses him.

 

“Okay, lets stop here,” he says, pulling her wrist out of his pants. “We’re on the Hogwarts Express.”

 

“So?” Elsea argues. “I’m already topless, let’s get this going.”

 

Remus laughs and shakes his head. “I’m not going to sit with come in my pants at the prefects meeting.”

 

“Please, that’s not that bad.”

 

“Have you ever done it?”

 

“No,” Elsea says. “Why? Have  _ you? _ ” 

 

“No, of course not.” Remus is sitting up now, picks Elsea’s jumper up off the ground and hands it to her. “Put this on.”

 

Elsea pouts. “I don’t  _ want _ to.”

 

He laughs and leans forward, placing another kiss on her lips. “Do it. We’ll get back to this later. Plus it’ll be weird when the candy cart knocks on the door and you’re naked from the waist up.”

 

Elsea sighs at the idea of the stupid candy cart and tosses her top on. It was so fun, just a moment ago. Now she’s picturing that poor old woman drowning in high third years because someone is trying to edge her out of her own business. Ugh, the ultimate downer.

 

“Candy cart is not going to come,” Elsea says, smoothing over her jumper and leaning back against Remus. “Too many people are high this time.”

 

He puts an arm around her. “I noticed. When I was heading over I ran into Camilla McKinnon and she was bloody obliterated. She called me Professor Lupin.”

 

Elsea laughs at the idea of Remus being a professor. He’d be awful. Also at Camilla, because at this point that girl is done for.

 

“Stupid Red Eye is gonna put me out of business,” Elsea says, closing her eyes. “Promise me that you’ll advertise me to your friends. Only the High Roller?”

 

“If I start talking about the High Roller too much around Sirius he’ll start picking up his chase,” Remus explains. “I’d be better off not talking about it at all.”

 

“Who does Sirius think it is?” she asks, a little concerned. Sirius may be lack a lot of tact, but he’s not actually dumb. 

 

“Archie.”

 

Only the second worst response to that question Elsea could’ve hoped for.

 

“Well, he’s not wrong.”

 

“Ah, well, we know who the real mastermind behind this operation is.”

 

“How does it feel to be dating a mob boss?” Elsea asks, grinning and leaning closer. Remus just laughs. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let us know your thoughts!!!!
> 
> also: http://wizardweed.tumblr.com/hrcharacters in case you're interested in more character info/how we picture the characters


	22. Second Hand News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Anya says feminism is just women trying to cop out and not take control of their own lives,” Sirius says.

It seems things have finally settled down into normal. Or a new normal, at least. Remus isn’t really sure what normal means for him and his three friends anymore, not when they’re a team of Werewolf Boy and his Animagus Friends. But this, sitting at breakfast, talking about girls and pranks, well, that’s normal. And the same conversation they’ve had about Camilla McKinnon. And talk of bumholes.

 

“I haven’t pranked Snivellus in _months_ ,” James says, balancing a particularly large sausage on his fork. His glasses are askew on his nose and his hair is disheveled in a familiar way. There is a hickey on his neck, which Remus thinks is hilarious and also a good sign that things with Lily are good again. “I mean, I know I can’t. Lily’ll kill me. But Merlin, I want to. Look at him over there. Look at his face. He looks so _smug_.”

 

Remus glances at Snape, who looks like he’s just eaten something rather nasty instead of the delicious bowl of porridge sat in front of him. “He looks fine.”

 

“Moony,” Sirius leans forward and grabs a piece of perfectly buttered toast off of Remus’ plate, “you can’t tell me you haven’t been itching for a good prank.”

 

“A _great_ prank,” Peter echoes.

 

“A monumental prank,” James corrects. “Something that can change the world.”

 

“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

 

“I feel the need to prank in my _loins_ , Moony,” Sirius says. He looks the perfect combination of exhausted and cool. Remus thinks he’s thought this about Sirius a million times over.

 

“I think that’s just a longing for Anya Darzi,” Remus corrects. “You should have that checked out.”

 

Sirius frowns. “I know the difference.”

 

Peter laughs. “He’s the only one of us not getting any, now, isn’t he?”

 

“Don’t talk about women like they owe you something, Wormtail,” James snaps.

 

“Yeah, Wormtail,” Sirius says.

 

Peter flips them all off. “Like you weren’t saying something like that just a few weeks ago, Prongs.”

 

“Yeah, well Lily lectured him for _hours_ last night and now he’s a feminist,” Remus adds.

 

“I’ve always been a feminist,” James says. “And you all should be too.”

 

“Anya says feminism is just women trying to cop out and not take control of their own lives,” Sirius says.

 

“Well then Anya is a fucking idiot, then,” Remus says, without thinking.

 

“ _Excuse me_?”

 

The table goes quiet. James stares wide-eyed at Remus. Peter has his hand over his mouth, attempting to stifle a laugh. Sirius, though, well, he looks like he’s about to Unforgivable Remus into the next century.

 

“Do you want to say that again, Lupin?”

 

Every piece of Remus wants to stand by his statement, because she really is. Because Anya Darzi sucks, and from everything he’s ever heard from Elsea, she doesn’t deserve Sirius, who isn’t even that great of a guy with girls, but still. He’s better than her. Corey Levy from Hufflepuff is even better than her, and he notoriously carries around a stash of booger flavored Every Flavoured Beans because he likes the salty taste.

 

So it pains him inside when he says, “I just mean… I didn’t mean that, mate. I just meant she’s, you know, maybe, not very well versed on feminist issues. Like Lily is. At least not enough to speak on behalf of all of them. No one is qualified enough for that.”

 

“And Elsea?” Sirius pushes. He’s ready for a fight. God, Remus just wants to run.

 

“Don’t,” James says, speaking before Remus can destroy Sirius’ life. “Sirius, chill. Remus, chill. It’s breakfast and we don’t need to be playing Whose Girlfriend is a Better Feminist at eight in the fucking morning.”

 

Everyone nods in agreement. Sirius and Remus shoot each other civil nods.

 

Peter starts up again with, “Sirius’ girlfriend is technically the worst feminist though, because she said-”

 

He doesn’t get to finish. James knocks him upside the head.

 

Remus decides he doesn’t want to be an active participant in this conversation anymore. So he focuses his attention on the senior side of the Slytherin table. There are only twelve people left.

 

“Can you believe this?” Remus says, pointing his fork at the tiny group. “There is literally no one left at the Slytherin table. They’ve all left. Unbelievable.”

 

James turns around to look, adjusting his glasses and squinting.

 

Sirius doesn’t bother turning around. “I’m not surprised,” he says, chewing loudly. “All Slytherin are trash.”

 

“Evil sons of bitches,” Peter says. “If I met one of them in a dark corridor, you know what I’d do?”

 

“Nothing? Because they’re all gone?” James says. The rest of them snicker and Peter throws a grape at James’ head.

 

“I’d hex them all the way to Azkaban, that’s what I’d do.”

 

“Gotta learn to hex first, mate.”

 

“What is this? Pick on Peter day?”

 

“That’s everyday, Wormy.”

 

“Ant says you all tease me because you’re jealous,” he says conversationally. “Penis envy.”

 

Remus reaches across the table and ruffles Peter’s hair.

 

“That’s _exactly_ why,” he states. “I can’t believe she figured us out so quickly.”

 

“She’s a keeper,” Sirius agrees. “You should invite her to hang out with us sometime. We could all bring the girlfriends, you know? Have them get to know each other. I mean, Elsea and Anya are already friends. And Anya and Lily, but Ant-”

 

“How old is Ant?” James asks, cutting him off, because clearly James doesn’t want to spend time with Anya Darzi.

 

“Um,” Peter says. “Sixteen.”

 

“Isn’t she friends with Camilla McKinnon?” James pushes. “Isn’t Camilla, like, a fourth year or something?”

 

“Camilla McKinnon is sixteen too, you twat. She’s a sixth year. That joke is, like, so last term.”

 

“You know who was hot,” James says. “Marlene McKinnon.”

 

“Was hot?” Remus muses. “She didn’t die, James. She’s still out there, just being hot somewhere else.”

 

James rolls his eyes. “You know what I meant.”

 

“Whatever happened to her, anyway?” Remus asks, poking at his eggs that have now gone cold.

 

“I dunno, ask Sirius.”

 

Sirius smirks. “We don’t keep much in contact these days.”

 

“Or ever. You shagged once.”

 

“Twice.”

 

“She stuck her finger in your bum, didn’t she?”

 

“Nope, not her. That was Maeve Daniels - and she only asked. I never said I did it.”

 

“You did it. How many times have we had this conversation?” Remus asks.

 

“I wonder how many bums she put her finger into?” Peter muses. Like clockwork, Lily Evans places her hands on James’ shoulders and presses a kiss on his cheek. She makes weird eye contact with Peter, who blushes a horrible shade of red that it almost makes Remus want to hide under the table.

 

“Morning, boys,” she says, settling into the open spot next to James. “What are we talking about? Demeaning women again?”

 

“Nope, never,” Peter says quickly. He’s sweating now. Lily just smiles all-knowingly. “Just talking about… um… um… Quidditch!”

 

“I’m sure.” Lily turns to tease Remus. “Looks like your _girlfriend_ is waiting for you.”

 

Remus turns over his shoulder to see Elsea leaning against the Great Hall doors with a very stoned looking Archie Blackwater next to her. She’s looking at him, and looking amazing while doing it. Her long blonde hair is pulled back into a slick ponytail and her legs look like they go on for miles in those tights.

 

They make eye contact and she smiles slightly, raising her eyebrows as if to say, “Get _over_ here.” They’ve made a habit to walk to potions together all week.

 

“Well, mates,” Remus says, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll see you in potions?”

 

Peter makes kissy faces at him. “Have fun with your _girlfriend_.”

 

Remus doesn’t respond, because hell, he _will_.

 

-.-

 

Elsea hopes Remus doesn’t mind Archie hanging out with them.

 

It’s just that this morning, at breakfast, he sat _alone_. Well not alone, but with Maddox’s friends. But Archie isn’t friends with those people, so he didn’t look like himself while they laughed about the same things they’ve been laughing about for years. It made Elsea feel horrible, staring at him while Anya took up way too much of her space talking about Sirius, S.A.P.S., and all the other awful things in the world Elsea doesn’t care for.

 

Honestly, she’d rather snog the Giant Squid than hear one more thing about Sirius Black. It’s so _fake_. Elsea doesn’t believe a goddamn second of it. And what hurts the most is the way Archie looks whenever she does talk about him. It’s like watching him get stabbed in the chest over and over again.

 

She wouldn’t feel this way normally. Archie has been moody before an Anya has always been annoying. It’s just, Elsea feels _partly_ responsible. But she does still think her advice about Archie dating himself was solid, good advice. It just happened to coincide with some of the worst advice she’s ever given Anya. This is why she never got involved.

 

Remus is nervously biting on his lower lip as the three of them go for a stroll onto the grounds. They’re heading out to the greenhouses to check on Elsea’s supply since the holidays and, well, she’s hoping for the boys to get to know each other.

 

Archie is basically Sirius Black but with a few minor character changes. And Sirius and Remus are such good friends, so why should him and Archie be any different?

 

“How was class today, Arch?” she asks. She and Remus are holding hands. Or holding mitten to glove. The January air is horribly frigid, and they’ve all got themselves properly bundled up to the scarfs wrapped tightly around their necks. It’s starting to snow, and with the sun setting so early, it’s actually rather beautiful out. “Anything stupid happen?”

 

Archie shrugs. He’s always shrugging these days, that or chewing his nails to disgusting, microscopic nubs.

 

“I dunno. Webb choked on his own spit in Care of Magical Creatures and fainted.”

 

He doesn’t sound like he found it very amusing. But to Elsea, this is better than any good news.

 

“Oh my god!” she laughs, and Remus catches her eye with a look that says _Calm down, babe, you’ll overwhelm him._ “Wait - you said he fainted?”

 

Archie nods. “Yeah, he had to be lifting charmed up to the hospital wing.”

 

Remus squeezes her hand and she suppresses a grin.

 

“What the hell was he doing? Did he take one of our ludes? If that’s the real reason he’s not been selling anything, I swear to Merlin he’s dead to me.”

 

Archie shakes his head. “I think he was smoking with some Puffs. I saw them from the bush where I was smoking with Maddox.”

 

“Hmm,” Elsea mumbles, and turns to look at Remus. “Have you ever fainted from smoking weed?”

 

“Uh, no?”

 

“Well, I mean, you’re no seasoned expert. Webb is a Super Stoner. That means he’s smoked so much weed in his life that there’s no way he should faint.”

 

“Okay?”

 

This conversation is going nowhere.

 

“Well I’m glad Webb fainted,” Elsea says. “Unless it’ll affect sales. One more hit to my business and we’re underwater, I’m sure of it.”

 

“I love how you call it a ‘business,’” Remus says, laughing. “It’s drug dealing.”

 

“Organized and calculated drug dealing,” Archie corrects coolly. Cutting down Remus is the only way he acts like himself, anymore. Which is kind of shitty, but it’ll do. “Run like a business, that’s our motto.”

 

“ _My_ motto,” Elsea scolds, bumping Archie’s hip with hers. He stumbles over a bit in the snow. “Your motto is ‘if it was on the floor for less than twenty seconds I’m eating it.’”

 

“That’s fair,” Archie agrees. She’s a little bummed he doesn’t even fight her on this. He typically does. Because well, Archie wouldn’t. He grew up wealthy, which meant that Dipsy would appear with a brand new whatever he was eating in seconds and scoop the one off the floor and toss it in the bin.

 

They continue down the grounds, the snow building up around their feet. Elsea is wearing the new boots her parents sent her for Christmas. They’re furry lined and she feels positively snug in them. She also feels positively snug holding hands with Remus. He’s just so perfect. The Perfect Boyfriend.

 

She thinks she should feel a little bit happier, though. Her boyfriend and her best friend, together. But she’s not. She can’t exactly pinpoint why, but there’s an odd feeling of foreboding in her stomach.

 

That foreboding is recognized when they find themselves face to face with the two True Super Stoners of Hogwarts: Jason and Fernando.

 

The boys are rolling joints with frozen fingers underneath a particularly snowy tree. Fernando keeps swearing and Jason is reassuring him with gentle, kind words.

 

“You can do it, babe,” Jason mumbles. “Yeah, dude, yeah, yes, man, like that.”

 

“Fuck off,” Fernando retorts. His fingers are purple.

 

“Courtesy of the High Roller?” Elsea can’t help herself, she bounds quicker down the snow towards them, tugging Remus with her. “You know, the High Roller provides only the best weed.”

 

She’s aware she sounds like a shitty infomercial, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

 

“Oh.” Jason looks up at them, eyes permanently bloodshot. “Hey, dudes… dudette. No, this is, uh, the new stuff.”

 

“What new stuff?” Archie asks, quickly. “New stuff from where? Home? London? Where?”

 

Jason and Fernando are slow people. Not necessarily stupid, but _slow_. So it takes them a short while to respond when Archie starts rapid fire spitting questions at them.

 

Elsea looks at Remus and he looks concerned, completely unsure of what’s going on. She hopes he doesn’t think this is weird, or anything. Sometime later she’ll have to assure him that it’s not the norm to stalk down clients and violently ask them questions. For now, though, this will just have to happen.

 

“Archie,” Elsea says, because he’s making it kind of obvious at this point. “Shut up.”

 

Archie snaps his mouth shut and backs off. Fernando and Jason now look both cold and confused.

 

“Yeah, uh, well,” Jason says. “We got it from something called “The Red Eye Service” on the Hogwarts express. Some new guy, or something. I don’t know much more about it than I do the High Roller, but it’s supposed to be better.”

 

“Better how?” Elsea asks, she feels like she’s been stabbed in her little herbology heart.

 

Jason grins, it’s then she notices that she’s catching him in a rare moment. Completely sober. Wow.

 

“This stuff is supposed to give you a tan,” Fernando explains, jaw quivering. “I have others too. One that will make your hair change color, one that makes you pass out ten minutes after, one that is designated to just give you the gigs.”

 

Remus frowns. “The gigs?”

 

“It means giggles,” Archie explains. “Like laughing a lot.”

 

“That sounds really cool,” Elsea says, quickly. God, her blood is boiling. Her stomach is twisting. She’s still squeezing Remus’ hand so tightly he might never have feeling in it again. “Who sold this to you?”

 

Jason and Fernando exchange a nervous expression. “Well, uh, we don’t know.”

 

Archie looks at Elsea like they just said Voldemort’s name out loud.

 

“You don’t know? Who sells to you normally? Do you even know that?” Archie asks, rocking back on his heels, “How the fuck do you not know?”

 

“Well, yeah. Webb, obviously. He sells to you too, right?”

 

Archie, trained in professional lying at this point, just nods his head.

 

“Yes,” Elsea cuts in, growing frustrated, “but what do you mean you don’t know who sold you this Red Eye shit? Like, did they... wipe your memory?”

 

Jason laughs, then. Fernando joining in and all Elsea can think of doing is just banging both of their giant heads together like cymbals and stealing their weed.

 

“No, no,” Jason says, rubbing his hands together and blowing in them. “They just gave us this spreadsheet thing, snuck it in our compartments and told us to put it back outside. That’s where all the strains were listed. Like The Gigs, and The Sleeper, and the Summer Breeze… all that. Did you not get a sheet? I’m surprised, you guys are like, just as big into this shit as we are.”

 

Elsea shakes her head. “No, we didn’t.”

 

“What’s the Summer Breeze?” Remus asks. It’s hard having him here, Elsea decides. Every time he asks a question or speaks she just wants to kiss his face and break character.

 

“The tanning one,” Fernando explains, then holds up the joint in his hand. “This one.”

 

Remus nods. “Oh.”

 

Elsea has an idea. “How many of these things off the list did you get?”

 

Jason snorts. He’s shivering now. “Every single thing, of course. Two baggies of each.”

 

Archie and Elsea exchange a look. Seems like they have the same idea. “We’ll buy off you,” Archie suggests. “Whatever price you want.”

 

Remus looks stunned. Elsea wonders if it’s because it’s the first time he’s ever seen anyone purchase weed or how shockingly non-existent Archie’s concern for money is. Could be either.

 

Jason and Fernando shuffle their feet a bit, because to them, weed is probably better than money. Which is why they’re so important to Elsea. If she remembers correctly, Jason was her first customer and has been consistently at the top of her market since day one. If she loses him, she could lose everybody. She could lose the entire Hufflepuff house, and that’s almost a year’s rent post graduation.

 

“We just don’t know when this Red Eye thing will pop up again,” Elsea pries, tilting her head to the side. “You can imagine how upset you’d be if you missed a list of specialized strains of weed on the Hogwarts Express all because you weren’t included on someone’s agenda. Summer Breeze? Look how pale I am, I’m practically blending into the snow, guys.”

 

Fernando nods in agreement. If she weren’t kissing his arse right now, she’d punt him to America.

 

“Fine,” Jason says, kicking the snow at his feet a bit. “fine. But I’m charging you no less than one galleon… and two knuts, each bag.”

 

Elsea cringes. Archie looks unfazed.

 

“Great,” he says, putting out his gloved hand for a shake. “It’s a deal, man.”

 

Jason shakes his hand. “Deal. You two can come up to my room and get it in like, half an hour, if you want. Just you and Elsea.”

 

Remus looks visibly upset.

 

“Hey,” he says. “What did I do?”

 

Elsea steps forward instinctively. How dare they.

 

“Yeah,” she presses. “What fucking gives guys?”

 

“Uh.” Fernando shoves the joint into his pocket. “He’s the Gryffindor Head Boy that’s dating Lily Evans. I’m not trying to expel myself, _not_ today.”

 

Archie starts laughing hysterically. Elsea smacks his arm, but he doesn’t stop.

 

“I’m not - holy shit, I’m not _James Potter,”_ Remus says, he looks like might start laughing himself. “I’m Remus Lupin, hello. I’m also dating Elsea. We’re holding hands this very second.”

 

He pulls their hands that have been idly entwined the entire time up for display.

 

“Oh, well, in that case we’ve got it right here.” Fernando pulls the baggie from his hand. Archie removes four galleons from his pocket and hands them over. “Did you want change?”

 

“Just keep it,” Archie says, grabbing the baggies from Fernando. “You have a nice day, man.”

 

“You too. And hey, happy coupling to you two,” Jason says, nodding at Remus and Elsea. “I’m like, totally rooting for you, man. Also, sorry we thought you were James Potter. All you Gryffindors look the same.”

 

“Thanks,” Elsea mumbles. Remus is trying hard not to laugh.

 

The three of them escape off to the greenhouses, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. But honestly, inside Elsea is nervous. She’s shaking. She can’t _believe_ those Red Eye Fucks made new products. New products! Who the fuck are they?

 

She pushes the door to Greenhouse Seven open and storms inside. She screeches, throwing her hands into the air before smacking them down on the counter. Archie and Remus file in quietly, then stare at her as she spastically runs to her closet, uses the combination to her secret closet, and throws the doors open. Sure enough, in the back of the closet, her pretty little plants are growing swimmingly. But as she opens her smaller boxes that store and keep her products fresh, she finds there’s a mysterious lacking.

 

Someone is stealing her product.

 

She screams again.

 

“Someone is so _fucking_ dead!”

 

-.-

 

 

Elsea is flipping out and all Remus can do is watch. Every time he says, “It’s going to be okay,” she snaps at him with a, “No it’s _not_.” Every time he tells her, “It’s not that bad,” she hisses and moans, “Yes it _is_.”

 

They’ve been patrolling for an hour now, wandering the halls and talking about her secret crazy life as The High Roller. It’s been quite uneventful. No one is out, Elsea is talking herself into a state, one of Remus’ socks is all rolled up inside of his shoe and that’s just plain annoying. Really, he doesn’t know why he set his expectations so high for tonight. They’re alone finally, yes, that’s a plus. Even more of a plus because alone implies the significant absence of Archie Blackwater, who gives him homicidal glances _still_ every time they’re in the same room. But that means nothing. Because this is patrol, not a date out in Hogsmeade or a candlelit dinner. Nothing besides what has been happening for the past five months can or is going to happen.

 

It’s a bit disappointing, Remus admits to himself. Not Elsea, or anything. She’s amazing as ever. Just the situation.

 

Once they arrive at the astronomy tower, Elsea turns on her heel to face Remus.

 

“Are you even listening to me anymore?” She asks, placing a hand on her hip. “Or are you just staring at my arse?”

 

Remus feels his face flare up, cheeks read, back of the neck sweating. He wasn’t looking at all, he swears. Maybe he should’ve been looking, though, dammit. What a missed opportunity.

 

“No, I was listening,” Remus says sheepishly, strolling around her to the center of the room. The last time he was in here he bared his soul more than he ever had in his life. Elsea knows everything about him, now. Everything. And revisiting the spot where it all went down makes him feel _everything_. “You said that you’re screwed and that you smoked alone yesterday, which constitutes this as a dark time. Even darker than when you had to do a drug deal for Stan when you were only twelve years old. I was listening _hard_.”

 

Elsea nods her head, proud. “Wow, verbatim. I am impressed, Remus.”

 

“I’m an impressive guy.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re okay,” Elsea says, walking over to him and shoving him lightly. The way she looks at him contradicts what she says. There is this playful spark in her eyes, it makes Remus think otherwise, makes him _believe_ that to her, at least, he is that impressive guy.

 

Remus exaggerates his stumble backwards, so Elsea pushes him again.

 

“Don’t makes fun of me,” she says, throwing another push. “I’m super strong if I want to be. I once pushed Archie into a pile of owl shit.”

 

“Really?” Remus asks. “Because I don’t believe you.”

 

Elsea halts her actions, looking up at Remus, annoyed.

 

“It happened,” she insists. “You can ask him yourself, it was last semester during one of the first weeks. In the Owlery. On a _Wednesday_ , to be exact.”

 

“Wow, can you give me the exact date and time? That will make your story much more believable.”

 

Elsea narrows her eyes.

 

“Fine,” she huffs, pulling the braid that was resting on her shoulder behind her. “Let me push you then.”

 

Remus scoffs. “I just let you push me like, four times. I think we know the deal.”

 

“No, no,” Elsea begs, and she’s serious. “Let me like, _push_ you! It’ll relieve my stress and prove you wrong. Two great things in one.”

 

Remus stares at her, hard.

 

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

 

“I’m not,” she says quickly. “Let me shove you into this wall.”

 

Is this actually happening?

 

“I’m part wolf, Elsea,” Remus explains. “And, admittedly, Blackwater is sort of a wimp. I can name four first years that can probably knock him into a pile of dung too.”

 

Elsea throws her head back and _groans_ in frustration. It’s over the top and should be unattractive, but Remus can’t look away.

 

“Archie is the starting Chaser of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, he’s no wimp,” Elsea whines. “You’re being annoying, just _let me_ push you. I will feel better.”

 

Remus sighs. He’s going to do it. He’s going to let her do this weird, unnecessary thing.

 

“Will it really relieve stress?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And we can talk about other things besides High Roller business?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And I won’t get a concussion?”

 

“No.” Elsea steps forward. “Now get ready. And remember, it could be worse. I could be launching a punch straight at your nose. That happened once, but with some kid on the playground when I thought I was a muggle.”

 

“Wouldn’t want to be that guy.”

 

“No,” Elsea says, winding up for the push. “You wouldn’t.”

 

Remus closes his eyes. He can’t believe this is happening. Elsea Holmes and him, standing in the Astronomy Tower, pushing each other into walls to relieve stress. He decides that no one needs to know about this. It’s just plain bizarre.

 

Then, Elsea kisses him lightly on the lips.

 

His eyes spring open.

 

“Oh,” he says, pulling away and laughing. “Thank God.”

 

Elsea giggles.

 

“Yeah, your face made me feel guilty,” she admits, kissing him again. “And I had an idea.”

 

Remus lifts an eyebrow. “What?”

 

“Well, let’s just say it’s a better way to relieve some stress, you know?”

 

Remus nearly chokes but holds back, because Elsea is kissing him again and grinning like mad and it’s all happening at once and it’s way, way, too much.

 

“Elsea,” Remus speaks into her lips, which are so soft it should be illegal. “We’re on patrol.”

 

She ignores him, so he says it again.

 

“Elsea, _patrol_.”

 

She pulls away, eyes all hooded and hazy looking like they were back on the train. “What’d you say?”

 

“We have, uh,” Remus stutters, he feels like a complete idiot talking right now. “It’s patrol time.”

 

She looks at him like he’s a complete imbecile. And he is, definitely. Painfully. Looking at her up close like this, he realizes she’s just about the most beautiful woman on the planet and she wants _him_.

 

“Remus.” Elsea blinks up at him. Her voice doesn’t even waver. She just says it like she’s talking about the weather. “I want to go down on you. Right now. In the astronomy tower. Would you not like me to do that?”

 

If he were a muggle cartoon character, his heart would have beat out of his chest and his jaw would’ve been on the floor. Instead, he just nods his head slowly.

 

“Wait, you don’t want me to?”

 

“What? No. I mean, oh my god.”

 

“Remus,” Elsea steps forward and wraps her arms around his shoulders. “Tell me what you want.”

 

“I want you,” he rushes out.

 

“Want me to what, Remus?”

 

God. She’s going to make him say it. Remus’ face is beat red and he’s hard just thinking about it. Suddenly the astronomy tower is so hot and the sock in his shoe is a distant memory.

 

Mortified, he says, “I want you to go down on me.”

 

Elsea looks so pleased. It drives him insane (in more ways than one).

 

“Well, thank you for telling me,” she says, snottily. Then she kisses him and slowly bends to her knees. A few moments later her fingers are skimming across the waistband of his trousers, pushing up the hem of his jumper and lightly tracing his skin. Remus shivers. She giggles.

 

She’s slowly unbuttoning and then unzipping, and Remus is standing there completely naked from the waist down, with his trousers around his knees, while Elsea Holmes slowly takes him in her hand.

 

And then she takes him in her _mouth_ and Remus lets out an unexpected grunt. She smiles, her lips wrapped around his cock, and he thinks holy shit if he doesn’t concentrate, he’ll come straight down her throat in seconds. Moments. It’ll be over.

 

“Relax,” Elsea whispers.

 

“I _am_ ,” Remus snaps. He doesn’t even know how.

 

Elsea gives him a look. She’s got one hand wrapped around the base of his cock. It’s a sight.

 

“You don’t look so relaxed.”

 

Remus wipes the sweat off his brow.

 

“Well if you were me, and a girl as fit as you are that you’ve fancied for ages has her hand on your cock you wouldn’t be so calm either.”

 

Elsea laughs, blushes, and then says, “Well I’m glad you admit you’ve fancied me for ages.”

 

He doesn’t have to continue conversation, because Elsea resumes her work. Remus groans, gripping the desk she’s backed him up against, and tries his damned best to relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE ARE STILL HERE !!!! BLOWY-J!!!!


	23. People Are Strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can’t you boys talk about anything but sex?” she asks, taking a sip of butterbeer. “I swear every conversation I’ve seen you have has started somewhere completely random and always somehow lands back on someone’s genitalia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some heteronormativity in this chapter. Enjoy!

Elsea can’t help it, she’s got a major case of the Relationship Superiority Complex(es).

 

It’s not her fault, really, it’s just that after spending just five minutes with an entire pack of other couples, well, she’s just got to admit that hers is by far one of the best.

 

She and Remus are piled into one of the Hogsmeade carriages with Peter and his new girlfriend Antigone (who literally looks fourteen), and Archie and  _ Mary MacDonald _ . Peter and Ant are by far the most awkward couple she’s ever seen and Arch and Mary just look like all they’ve got in common is the fact that they’ve snogged most of Hogwarts. 

 

Remus has his hand on Elsea’s knee like he’s trying to keep her from bolting out of the carriage door and running straight for the Forbidden Forest for some sweet relief. He knows her too well, which is another reason why they’re the Perfect Couple.

 

Although, they did have their first major disagreement this morning. When Elsea told Remus to bring Archie a nice girl she did  _ not _ mean Mono Mary. That’s the last person she wanted, actually, because Mary does not fit any definition of nice. She can’t replace Anya’s cutesy giggle and do-gooder attitude. Yes, Archie and Mary may be more similar, but hell, Archie has been with too many girls just like her already. He needs a change. He’s probably been with Mary already if Elsea is thinking clearly.

 

Remus, however, clearly put as little thought as possible into this. Which is not cool, because if this Archie/Remus/Elsea trio is ever going to take place, Remus needs to at least give  _ half _ a shit.

 

Mary is chomping on her gum when she says, “Yeah so I got back from St. Mungo’s yesterday.”

 

“Wow,” Archie says, scratching the back of his head. “What did you have?”

 

“Mono.”

 

Archie literally flinches.

 

“Okay.”

 

Elsea can’t listen for another minute. So she focuses her attention on something arguably worse. Sirius and Anya. They’re not in the carriage with them, thankfully, because there just wasn’t enough room. And Elsea can’t believe she’s saying this, but she really feels bad for James and Lily, who are stuck with them in the carriage behind.

 

It’s just ridiculous, those two. They only talk about one thing and one thing alone: S.A.P.S.. And guess who smokes enough weed to single-handedly derail the anti-drug movement? Sirius. Elsea can’t believe that it’s actually happening. She may have her fair share of drug-related secrets from Anya, but at least she actively doesn’t give a shit about S.A.P.S.. Sirius Black must be secretly so miserable  _ all the time _ talking about shit he doesn’t believe in. And Anya doesn’t do anything but snog him in public, just so Archie can see.

 

Sickening.

 

Mary lights a cigarette.

 

“You want?” she asks Archie, holding out a pack. 

 

Archie nods his head. “Eh, what the hell.”

 

Mary holds it out to Remus and Elsea and oddly, probably due purely to the occasion, they accept.

 

“So what was it like, uh,” Archie starts to ask, “having mono?”

 

Elsea wants to facepalm. It’s going to be a long day. She instead focuses on lighting her cigarette with that fancy wand trick she learned back in fifth year. Remus looks well impressed and they share a look as they both focus on smoking their cigarettes and not looking at Peter and Ant as they share awkward glances. 

 

Mary’s talking about mono and how awful it is as Remus slowly slides his hand up Elsea’s knee. It’s dark in the carriage, and it’s only been a week since their little rendezvous in the astronomy tower. They’ve still not had sex, well, sex  _ sex _ . But they’ve experimented a bit. Snogging in the empty charms classroom. Dry humping on the Gryffindor sofa after everyone else has gone to bed. Just last night Remus slid his hand up her skirt while they were making out on patrol. 

 

She wants sex. She wants to sex Remus badly. But getting alone time in an actual bed? Well, that’s hard to come by at Hogwarts. She wonders how she ever did it before. Did it just happen that she and Amos Diggory managed to find his dormitory empty last year? Or was that strategically planned?

 

Since the carriage is dark, and since Elsea is horny, she turns her knees towards him so that his hand slips higher. They’re not going to do anything, not here, because that’s disgusting in public, but she still likes the thrill.

 

Archie then kicks his dirty shoes up on her leg, knocking Remus’ hand away. This is the only thing that gives him joy anymore, apparently. Cockblocking Remus and Elsea.

 

“ _ Ew _ , Archie come on,” Elsea swats his feet away. He ruined the moment. “Your feet are covered in snow. And you got it on my jeans.  _ Gross _ .”

 

Unphased, Archie crosses his arms with pride. “Snow is water, Sherlock. It’ll melt and dry.”

 

“Not the dirt, idiot,” Elsea complains, pointing the dark patch on her leg. “Remus, kick his arse for me. What are you doing? Sitting there.”

 

Remus stares at her, genuinely conflicted. It dawns on her that  _ wow _ , he totally would. Remus would try to take Archie on and it only takes her asking. That’s amazing and her mood is instantly lifted. 

 

The carriage jolts to a halt. Peter is launched onto Antigone and her face turns an unflattering shade of purple. Elsea sighs, she guesses they’re cute. Whatever. It’s hard to tell in these crazy times what a good thing looks like or not.

 

They all file out together. Archie walks on Elsea’s side and Mary walks on Remus’. This is ridiculous, Elsea thinks, as she berates Archie with her eyes while he chews on his stupid nails, they need to mingle at the very least.

 

“Stop that,” she snaps, grabbing both of his wrists in one swipe and holding them together. Then, in a lower voice, she asks, “Don’t you even care? About how you look right now? You’re on a date.”

 

Archie only offers her a blank stare that makes her skin crawl. Why, oh  _ why _ , won’t this poor sap help himself?

 

“Well?”

 

“No,” Archie says spitefully. 

 

“You don’t care?”

 

“ _ Nope _ .”

 

“May I ask why?”

 

“You said we’d just be baking out the Shrieking Shack and you  _ lied _ . I never signed up for this bullshit and now I’m going to have to snog Mono Mary McGee over there to get through the day. You fucked me over.”

 

Remus makes an uncomfortable noise that signifies that they are getting kind of loud, so Elsea pulls him back with a curt, yet sweet, “Excuse us, for a minute.”

 

Elsea is raging mad. What is Archie thinking? She could kick him in the face right now, in fact, to calm herself slightly, she takes a moment to imagine all the times she’s taken to physically attack Archie Blackwater in particularly strong moments of rage. It nearly works.

 

“Are you fucking stupid?” Elsea asks, finally, when they are out of earshot. “Or have you forgotten how to socialize with females? Because tip:  _ that’s not how you do it _ .”

 

Archie stares her down right back, frustrated as he pulls his arms from her grip. “Don’t you go attacking me like this is  _ my _ fault. How else am I supposed to react when you blindly pull me into a carriage and sit me down next to Mary while talking about meeting up for some big couples freak show? Are you out of your mind? Elsea, how else am I supposed to react?”

 

Elsea shakes her head. No, no. He can defect but he is not allowed to be right.

 

“Uh, let’s see, like a gentleman?” Elsea replies. “Instead of an immature whiny baby? I’m doing this for you, you dingus. I’m tired of this moping, non-sexually active, Archie. It’s bumming me out.  Go out there and have fun with Mary,  _ now _ .”

 

Archie is so angry. Elsea doesn’t think she’s ever seen him this way, not even with the dealers. 

 

“ _ Elsea _ ,” Archie pleads, tossing his arms out wildly. “I can’t ‘have fun’ with Mary, I can’t go on a date with six couples, and I can’t fucking sit at the same table as Black and Anya.”

 

“Or what?” Elsea argues. “You’ll die? It’s good for you, what we’re doing here. Setting you up with Mary makes it look like you’ve moved on to the next, like you don’t care what’s on Anya’s menu-”

 

“-Holy shit! You literally don’t understand at all, do you?” Archie cuts her off in a loud, jarring voice. She feels herself freeze. What’s happening here? 

 

“I don’t want to play games, anymore, Elsea,” Archie continues, breathing heavily. “I’m so tired of them. I fucked up with Anya, I know. And she’s flaunting Black around because she wants me to feel like shit, I  _ fucking  _ get it _.  _ But I don’t care because it’s just… it still bothers me.”

 

Elsea is stunned. Archie? Pouring out his soul to her? Archie Blackwater? Experiencing emotions? Because of  _ Anya _ ? Archie? She’s never experienced a change up like this. Never in her many years as Archie Blackwater’s best friend did she think that he’d be the one sighing, moping, and crushing on Anya Darzi. He always seemed too thick, too wrapped up in himself. He’s not the type to love, he’s her cold and collecting best friend.

 

“Archie,” Elsea says, attempting her best, soft tone. “Are you saying you… you actually  _ like _ Anya?”

 

Archie looks disgusted with himself when he mumbles, “I think so.”

 

Elsea shakes her head in disbelief. 

 

“You want to be with her? You want to be with Anya Darzi?”

 

“Yes,” Archie says, “I want her. I want her bad,  _ shit _ .”

 

He runs his hand through his styled hair, destroying his effort which is something he never does. 

 

“She’s just trying to fuck with you,” Elsea says,  _ begs _ , because she needs Archie to snap out of this ASAP. “That whole Black thing. It’s because she’s being shitty, and wants you to feel shitty. You want someone that makes you feel shitty?”

 

“I dunno.” Archie kicks snow, avoiding eye contact. “I made her feel pretty shitty over the holidays. And her whole life, apparently.”

 

“But that wasn’t intentional.  _ This _ is intentional. She’s doing a bad thing, right now. And you’re playing right into her hand.”

 

“It’s not like I can  _ help _ it. Fuck, can I just skip out on this? I can go back to the tower, the carriages are still running.”

 

Elsea doesn’t want to let this happen. But she also doesn’t want to have Archie experience the worst kind of pain possible all because she mistook Archie’s detachment for relationship mourning, not relationship pining.

 

“No, no,” Elsea says quietly, rocking back on her heels. “You should come. Look, you haven’t talked to Anya in a while. Maybe you’re… you’re just thinking of her like she’s something she’s not. You used to be friends and you never liked her before, remember? This could just be some sort of adverse reaction after the incident. You’re fine. Just please, come.”

 

Archie stares at Elsea’s boots for a while, considering.

 

“Please, for me,” Elsea pleads. “I begged Remus to set this up and he’ll never let me live this down if you leave. Plus, we can still smoke in the Shrieking Shack if all goes well.”

 

“You mean that?” Archie replies. “You’d still smoke?”

 

“Yes, of course, I’ll probably need it,” Elsea says, taking one step towards The Three Broomsticks. She’s also going to need a lot of Butter Beer too. A lot. “Now let’s go, before everyone is finished.”

 

Archie sighs so loudly it’s almost a grunt, but he follows her. They walk side by side, Archie goes back to chewing his nails but now Elsea doesn’t have the heart to stop him. She just hopes that this date doesn’t go as disastrous as she’s anticipating.

 

-.-

 

Remus could slaughter everyone at this table, starting with Sirius, who so far has made him want to pull out his wand and hex him across the table not once, but three times. They’ve only been here fifteen minutes.

 

One bonus, arguably the only bonus, is that they’re all finally of age. Being seventeen in the wizarding world has its perks: and those perks include being able to order alcoholic beverages at the Three Broomsticks. Remus and Elsea already slipped a flask into her purse for casual sips on the way here, and he feels a little bit more buzzed than normal. He shudders to think what he might be like if he were totally sober and experiencing this horrific date.

 

So he and Elsea are both on their second drink. Which is a lot, but Remus doesn’t really care and his girlfriend does make a shit ton of drug money. So when Elsea offered to pay, he couldn’t think of a reason to say no. 

 

Sirius and Anya keep talking to each other about the one thing they have in common: the fact that they are wizards. It’s bloody irritating. They may as well be sitting there gushing about how they both have wands and both were sorted into different houses at Hogwarts. He’s all like “I can do this spell” and she’s like “Wow me too!” as if the entire table can’t do the same god damned spells.

 

Meanwhile, Archie Blackwater and Mary haven’t exchanged more than three words to each other. Mary must be on her 8th cigarette by the time their second round of drinks come. Elsea also keeps staring at them, glaring at Archie and unsubtly mouthing conversational points to him. It’s clearly not helping, but what can Remus do? He hasn’t been much better. Lily and James are also miserable, staring at each other from across the table like they’ve just made the gravest mistake of their lives. Peter and Ant keep trying to snog when nobody's looking. Too bad everyone is. 

 

“Anyway,” Sirius says, rolling down his sleeve. “That’s how I got this scar.”

 

Anya’s mouth has formed a small, bemused ‘o.’

 

“Really?” she asks, leaning forwards. “I can’t believe you fought off a giant all on your own. Nonetheless in your backyard!”

 

James narrows his eyes, exchanging a look with just about everyone at the table when he cuts in.

 

“Padfoot,” James prods. “When the hell did you fight off a giant?”

 

Sirius clears his throat and is about to answer when Peter says with an arrogant puff, “You don’t even have a backyard, mate. You live in central London.”

 

The table snickers. Sirius shrugs. “It was somebody's backyard.”

 

“Who’s?” James asks. 

 

“Maeve Daniels?” asks Remus. Elsea nearly spits her firewhiskey everywhere. He’d told her the story about Sirius and Maeve a few nights ago. 

 

“I don’t know who that is,” Sirius mumbles, taking a sip from his drink. Anya’s eyes have glazed over by this point, the conversation only counts when she can laugh obnoxiously loud at it, apparently.

 

“Maeve Daniels?” Elsea jumps in. Remus swears she’s too good at this. “She’s in our potions class. And she’s a Gryffindor. Are you sure you don’t know her?”

 

“Actually, she’s a Hufflepuff,” James corrects. “But that doesn’t mean anything. Right? Sirius knows those Puffs just as well, if not better than the Gryffs.”

 

“Yeah!” Peter adds, never good at playing the game. “We’ve also both hooked up with her, remember?”

 

Antigone glares at him, then, causing him to shrink back into his seat. Brilliant.

 

Remus is covering his face, he’s laughing so hard. They are being brutal.  _ Brutal _ . Normally if it were any other girl (literally any) they’d respect the universal rule of friendship to endorse Sirius’ bullshit stories about the scar he got when he was gardening with his Mum and fell into a thorn bush. This time, though, it’s impossible. 

 

Lily, forever the only sane one, looks at Remus unamused.

 

“Can’t you boys talk about anything but sex?” she asks, taking a sip of butterbeer. “I swear every conversation I’ve seen you have has started somewhere completely random and always somehow lands back on someone’s genitalia.” 

 

Elsea snorts. She’s laughing at something Lily said? Remus is nearly too stunned to respond with a small, curt, “No we don’t.”

 

“But you do!” Anya chimes in, now suddenly a part of the conversation. “You guys were literally discussing NEWTs and next thing I know we’re talking about Peter’s huge-”

 

She stops herself, making scared eyes at Antigone.

 

“-package.”

 

Elsea buries her head in Remus’ arm and is shaking with laughter. Remus starts chuckling too because he’s a little drunk and can’t help it.

 

“You know, I think they might be right,” James muses, taking off his glasses and placing them on the table. “We talk about sex about every other conversation.”

 

“Every  _ other _ conversation?” Lily interjects, scoffing. “You’re giving yourself too much credit.”

 

“No I’m not giving myself enough credit,” James corrects. “Did you hear what I said?”

 

“Fine! Fine,” Sirius interrupts them, now everyone is looking at him. Even Archie, who has just been feasting his fingernails like they’re his goddamn dinner. “Let’s talk about something else then, no sex. No dicks. Nothing about Peter’s massive schlong. Anyone want to give it a go?”

 

Silence.

 

“So,” Remus starts off a conversation with everyone because at this point it doesn’t look like anyone else is going to even try. “Who here is excited for the new season of quidditch?”

 

Everyone, including Elsea gives him an odd look. Remus stares ahead like he didn’t ask a question that was bizarrely out of character.

 

“I am,” Sirius answers, thank God. “But you’re not, you hate quidditch.”

 

“Yeah, well, I don’t know.”

 

“Are you taking up an interest in quidditch, suddenly?” Sirius continues to prod. Anya fake laughs extremely loud and you can practically see the hairs on the back of Archie’s neck stand on end.

 

“Maybe I am,” Remus argues, leaning the arm that isn’t around Elsea on the table. “Is that so far fetched?”

 

Sirius opens his mouth to argue, but Elsea shifts forward protectively. “He’s just making conversation. Like you asked.”

 

Remus did not need that, but the effort was appreciated.

 

“Well it was bad conversation, mate,” James says, smiling, reaching over the table and grabbing a hunk of Remus’ cheek. Elsea’s eyes light up when he does this, and she goes and pinches a bit of her own.

 

“Alright, alright,” Remus says, face strained. “Fuck off my face, please.”

James and Elsea exchange a look and Remus pretends to ignore it. Lily is smirking, and suddenly he feels like something strange is happening. Are he and Elsea on the same relationship tier as James and Lily? 

 

“Well, I for one know we’re going to wipe the floor with Ravenclaw,” Peter says, after detaching his face from Ant’s. “Right James?”

 

Speaking about Quidditch usually turns James and Sirius into quintessential Athletic Douchebags. So he’s not surprised when James practically puffs up his chest and says, “Nobody beats Gryffindor these days, Pete. The cup is ours.”

 

Sirius nods his head in agreement, his eyes shifting over to Archie when he says, “Yeah, Blackwater, you and your team are toast.”

 

Anya breaks character for a second, her face turning bright pink and flustered before she sinks back into pretending she doesn’t care. 

 

Archie looks up from whatever he was doing with his hands.

 

“What?” he says. Remus never knew Archie before all the holiday break drama, but if he acted this spacey and confused all the time he doesn’t understand why Elsea loves him so damn much.

 

Sirius pales, backing down a moment when he doesn’t get the full throttle reaction he expected.

 

“We’re going to roast you,” Sirius says, sinking down in his seat a bit. He tries to come off more nonchalant, but honestly, he just looks like a prick. This is not going how Remus hoped it would go. He thought a little friendly rivalry would lighten the mood. “Out on the fields.”

 

Archie’s expression is terrifyingly blank. Elsea looks like she might throw up, she’s squeezing Remus’ hand and sweating on him. 

 

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Archie says, looking at Anya. Anya flares her nostrils and pretends she dropped her napkin on the ground. It’s all so transparent,  _ cartoon-like  _ even, Remus decides. Although he’d much rather watch Tom and Jerry than this shit. 

 

“I guess we will,” Elsea says, her voice stern. She’s looking at Archie like he better disappear or she’ll do it for him. Then, disturbingly, she completely changes her temperament. “Personally, I hate quidditch too. No offense but sports are just really stupid and a waste of time. Does anyone else agree?”

 

Lily raises her hand in agreement, so does Mary, who Remus forgot was there. 

 

Archie stands up and just walks away from the table, then. Elsea’s jaw is on the floor and Remus can’t believe this is happening. 

 

James squirms in his seat, then offers, “So how about Peter’s huge package, eh?”

 

Ant blushes a shade of red unknown to humankind until that moment, and Elsea gives Remus a look before she abruptly shoves her hair back and scurries after Archie. 

 

Remus clears his throat as an uncomfortable silence falls on the table. It doesn’t happen immediately, but eventually, Peter starts yammering on about something different. Potions class, Remus thinks. Or he tries to think. James and Lily keep staring at him like he should stand up and run after Elsea and it’s very distracting and annoying, but he also can’t look away.

 

James elbows him.

 

“What’s up with you man?” Remus asks quietly, looking at Lily as they speak. She’s never stared him down this hard. “You guys are being creepy.”

 

“Yeah, we know,” James says, “we’re trying to initiate a threesome with you.”

 

Remus sputters on his drink. “What?”

 

“Well, now that Elsea is  _ out of the picture- _ ”

 

“- _ No _ , no. James, shut up,” Lily chimes in, thankfully. “We want to leave. You need to be our escape plan.”

 

Remus is usually sharp. Or, at least he’d like to think he is after years of being on edge from James’ and Sirius’ constant pranks, but he’s genuinely confused. 

 

“What do you mean?” Remus asks. 

 

Lily rolls her eyes like he’s stupid. On the other side of the table, Peter and Ant are trying to be inconspicuous with their kisses and Sirius is still talking about himself. Remus isn’t sure where to direct his attention. 

 

“You run after Elsea and then James runs after you and then I run after James,” Lily whispers at a nearly impossible to hear pace. “Then we are free of this hell date and can do whatever we want for the rest of the afternoon.”

 

Yes, that sounds nice. Remus likes that idea.

 

“That’s brilliant,” he tells Lily. She’s unperturbed. 

 

“Yeah, I know, now  _ go _ ,” she urges, and James helps by elbowing Remus again. “We only have a few hours left and I can’t stand this place any longer.”

 

Remus nods. He sighs, gathering up his jacket and then Elsea’s and then smacks a few coins on the table. “Gotta split, sorry,” he says, quickly, to the table. “You know how Elsea gets.”

 

They don’t, because neither does he, but it works well enough. He hurries off and hears James scurry after him, and in turn, Lily. A perfect heist. Maybe he ought to listen to Lily Evans more often.

 

-.-

 

They’re all outside within fifteen minutes. Elsea couldn’t be more thankful to see Remus heading towards her after Archie yelled at her for the  _ second time _ that day. She was so bloody angry with Archie that she needed a cigarette to calm herself down, or ten. After basically shoving him back into the pub, she makes Remus, and then by extension James and Lily, wait on a park bench will she chain smokes not one, not two, but three cigarettes. 

 

“This is a nasty habit,” Lily says, crossing her arms and looking at Elsea with a worried glance. “But Merlin, do you look cool.”

 

Lily has been really nice to Elsea today. She’s not sure what happened over break, maybe she fell and hit her head or Remus talked some sense into her, or something. Either way, it hasn’t been complete hell to be with her so far. Actually, it’s been almost nice.

 

Elsea knew James wanted a cigarette but resisted because of Lily. He’s sitting next to her, fiddling quietly with her pack. “Do you think I would look cool?” he asks her.

 

“No,” Lily responds.

 

Remus is leaning against the fence behind them. The Shrieking Shack stands in the distance, looking menacing but also a little enticing. Elsea knows that when she’s angry she gets a little adventurous, sometimes to a dangerous level, but she can’t help it when she asks, “Who wants to explore the Shack?”

 

She’d really like to be smoking a big old spliff, but knows that’s the real dangerous move. 

 

“Not me,” Remus says, shrugging one shoulder. “James and I have been there and done that. Many times.”

 

The two boys make eye contact and laugh. That’s when Elsea is reminded that he’s a werewolf in there once a month, every month and that Lily doesn’t know but she does. The petty side of her, which is admittedly pretty dominant today, loves this. 

 

“You guys are ridiculous,” Lily says, then averting her eyes to Elsea. “You know that they literally know every nook and cranny in this school? It’s unbelievable. They even have this map that shows you where people are at all times in the building. It’s insane, but some bloody good magic.”

 

“Really?” Elsea arches a brow. That’s an interesting concept, something that she could definitely use to track her drug dealers. 

 

James, on the other hand, looks miffed.

 

“Wait, how did you find out about the map?” he asks. “I only told you about the cloak.”

 

What cloak? Elsea looks at Remus to explain but he’s too busy looking just as surprised as James does.

 

Lily sighs, rests her head on his James’. “I found it a long time ago with the cloak. It kept insulting me for a while, which is a bit of grating feature but I wouldn’t expect anything less from you four. Anyway, I cracked the code eventually and saw the whole thing. It’s brilliant.”

 

James, who is still looking at Remus, looks like he a tie between angry and satisfied. Elsea is just confused, because she doesn’t really care or know anything about a map that insults people, or these boys with their shady blankets and secrets, so she drops her half-smoked cigarette and stomps it out in the snow. It’s nice to know there are shadier people at Hogwarts and all, but enough of that.

 

“Well this is a fun conversation,” Elsea says, mostly to Remus. She’d like to slink off with him some place so they could be alone, really. But he doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere. So she just walks over to the fence and leans against it, hard, flinging him forward only slightly.

 

Remus gives her a half smile.

 

“We have a lot of fucked up secrets,” Remus says lowly. “You’re gonna have to get used to that.”

 

Elsea deadpans. “Are  _ you _ telling  _ me _ that  _ I _ have to get used to fucked up secrets?”

 

Remus shrugs.

 

“Maybe you should get some less fucked up secrets,” she says. Remus laughs, leans forward, and kisses her nose. She  _ wishes _ he’d kiss other places, but she supposes this’ll have to do. 

 

“Well, what are we going to do now?”

 

Remus shrugs again. He’s useless. James looks confused as ever. Lily offers, “Honeydukes for some sweets? Maybe we could then go to that new bookstore?”

 

Elsea isn’t sure if she wants candy or not right now. Or to read. 

 

“Hogsmeade is kind of boring, isn’t it?” Elsea says, sighing. “It’s all just shopping and drinking, that’s only if you’re legal.”

 

“Yeah, just ways to take your money, basically,” Remus agrees.

 

“It’s fucked up,” James adds.

 

Lily nods her head. 

 

“We could get drunker,” she proposes. “There really isn’t anything else to do.”

 

“Now that,” Elsea says, a grin growing on her usually stone-cold face, “is a  _ brilliant _ idea.”

 

The four of them wander back past the Three Broomsticks to the Hog’s Head. It’s not exactly the classiest joint in Hogsmeade, but they’re sure as hell not going to run into any infuriating couples there. Elsea buys them the first round, claiming she came in big with Christmas money. The truth is Elsea just really wants Lily Evans to drink a beer bought with illicit drug funds. That’s funny, that’s good irony.

 

So funny that she buys their second round too, and a third of shots. And suddenly the edges of Remus’ face are a little blurry and everything James Potter says is hilarious. It feels almost wrong to be this drunk during the day, at Hogsmeade, none the less. But Elsea can’t do anything about it now. Besides, it only  _ almost _ feels wrong. All in all, she’s pretty damn pleased with the situation.

 

James lets out a big burp once they’re all settled at the table. Remus laughs and Lily nudges him in the gut.

 

“James!” she cries.

 

He burps again.

 

“Ah, sorry,” he mumbles. “The second one was an accident, swear.”

 

“Likely story,” Lily replies. James laughs and leans forward. Then they’re kissing. Elsea raises her eyebrows and looks at Remus.

 

“Look,  _ they _ snog in public.”

 

“This isn’t exactly public, babe,” Remus shrugs, but he scoots her chair closer and throws his arm around the back of it. Elsea nuzzles into him, but still is a bit peeved. She just wants to kiss and kiss until the sun comes up. Well, maybe more than just kiss.

 

She’s so goddamn horny. And this alcohol isn’t helping one bit. So, because the Universe is a cruel bitch, Elsea downs half of her beer in one large gulp. Because if she’s going to be miserable she might as well be drunk and miserable.

 

Though she’s not miserable. Not one bit. Remus’ arm feels comfortable and warm. And right. Even with James and Lily snogging across the table, she’s not felt happier in a long time.

 

“Okay enough,” Remus says, and it’s nice to know that he’s a bit bothered by it too. “Quit snogging or I’m gonna puke.”

 

“Yeah!” Elsea agrees and speaks a bit louder than she intended but whatever. No one is here. At least, no one that matters. 

 

Lily pulls away and shrugs. 

 

“I think I’m drunker than I thought,” she says, wiping the back of her mouth. James just laughs. “Elsea,” Lily continues, one of her eyes falling shut lazily when she speaks. “I gotta pee.”

 

Elsea looks to Remus, confused, because she definitely doesn’t go pee with Lily Evans. But he sort of shoves her, encouraging her to go. Does he want them to be friends? That’s kind of annoying, but fine,

 

“Elsea please!” Lily whines, and then whispers. “They probably won’t let James in with me.”

 

“Yeah, no,” Elsea responds slowly. “I don’t think they would…”

 

“Then let’s go, pretty girl!” 

 

Elsea, shocked and bewildered, lets Lily Evans take her by the arm and haul her off to the toilets. They’re gross. Really gross. And Elsea leans up against the sink while Lily scurries into the first stall. After hearing Lily Evans pee for the first time (not something Elsea had on a to-do-list), she turns around and starts fixing her hair. It’s perfect though, because of course it is.

 

“Elsea…” Lily calls as she exits the stall, still buttoning up her trousers. “Can I ask you something?”

 

Elsea, who is very worried but a little tipsy, nods. “Go for it.”

 

“Does, Remus, well, you know?”

 

Vague.

 

Elsea blinks. “No, I don’t know.”

 

Lily is blushing. Her pale cheeks are a rare shade of scarlet. She leans in closer. “Does he, like, you know, go there?”

 

“Go where?” To class? The Forbidden Forest? The Coco Cabana? Elsea is tired. She wants to be in Remus’ arms again.

 

Lily stomps her foot in frustration as if she expected Elsea to be some sort of drunk mind reader.

 

_ “Does Remus ever go down on you?” _

 

Elsea blinks. She did not expect that. Then she laughs. Which makes Lily feel horrible, blushing even redder and redder until Elsea thinks she might explode.

 

“No, god, don’t laugh at me! Oh God!”

 

Elsea isn’t sure whether or not she wants to discuss her sex life with Lily Evans. But does she have anyone? Elsea supposes Mary, but Mary is sort of a Sex Goddess. Does Lily think Elsea is more on her level? What the hell? This whole thing is almost too weird for her to digest.

 

She’s about to get combative when Lily says, “It’s just, that’s James’ favorite thing. Like,  _ in the world _ . He’s so into it. He  _ loves it _ . And I cum  _ every single time _ . Sometimes more than once! Have you ever done that? My God,  _ Elsea Holmes _ , it is heaven.”

 

Honestly, from what Remus had previously told her about Lily, and all the rumors in school about how Lily doesn’t let him near her, Elsea did not expect this. She thought that they were probably just dry humping in the broom closet or something. Definitely not…  _ this _ .

 

“Shit,” Elsea says, giggling because the situation is completely ridiculous. “I mean, not yet, no.”

 

Lily looks scandalized, then gasps.

 

“Oh yeah! You guys just started out.” Lily hiccups. “I sometimes forget you and Remus weren’t together last semester, with all that angst. No offense.”

 

Elsea offers her tightlipped smile. “None taken.”

 

“It’s just that… Mary is so, like, advanced, and crazy with her sex life. She talked about it so much and I just, like, never got the hype until now, you know? And Alice - well, you can’t discuss  _ anything _ with her. She’s almost as secretive as the boys.”

 

“Right.”

 

“And Anya is just… I don’t want to hear about  _ Sirius _ . Like, gross.”

 

Elsea agrees with that entirely. “Oh yeah, totally.”

 

“So I feel like you’d get me, you know?” Lily says, leaning against one of the stalls. “Right?”

 

For some reason, Elsea decides she’s just going to let this happen. The universe has been forcing them to talk to each other for so long at this point, they may as well be drunk bathroom friends. And maybe that’s that alcohol talking, but who cares? 

 

“So what do you want to know?” Elsea asks, leaning against the counter and smiling. “Remus and I might be new to this but I’m not really. I can help. Are you on birth control?”

 

Lily blushes again. God, she needs to stop doing that. “Uh, yeah. Mary helped me with that.”

 

“Good. Have you got condoms?”

 

“James does.”

 

“Get some for your own. He’s gonna be unreliable. But you know, if you feel comfortable and you feel safe with your birth control, you don’t always have to wrap it. It feels so good without it.”

 

Lily’s eyes go wide. “ _ Really?” _

 

“Oh, Merlin yeah.”

 

“I definitely don’t want to get pregnant though,” Lily says, now pacing. “I can’t have a baby too young. Imagine what that would do to my life. I’m a career woman, you know?”

 

“Got it. Then don’t.”

 

“So blow jobs-” Lily begins, but then cuts herself off. “Hey, actually, can I ask you something?”

 

“At this point, why not.” 

 

“Okay you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want but… me and the girls have a theory about Remus.”

 

Oh god.

 

“What is it?” Elsea asks. Does she know? She can’t know. James wouldn’t tell her… that’d be horrible. God, James is horrible if he did that.

 

“Is his dick, like,” Lily starts, Elsea is so relieved that she almost moans. “Big? Like, how long?”

 

“Lily!” Elsea replies, “What the fuck?”

 

“We have a theory that he’s the biggest!” Lily says. Elsea, who never thinks anyone is funny besides Archie when he does his drunk impression of Filch dancing to Night Fever, starts laughing uncontrollably. “He’s so long. You know what I mean? Like, his legs go on for  _ years _ .”

 

Elsea is still laughing. Lily grabs her arms and is laughing too. They’re laughing together, at the ridiculousness of Lily’s question, at the oddity of their new friendship, and at the fact that Remus  _ does _ have really long legs. By the time they get back to the table, Lily is clinging to Elsea, still laughing. The boys shoot them a confused look, but Elsea disregards them. For some reason she doesn’t have it in her to hate Lily Evans anymore. The entire issue just dissolved, from the know it all attitude to the S.A.P.S. membership she takes way too seriously, Lily Evans is…  _ fine _ . Elsea might even like her. 

 

She settles down next to Remus and James goes to get them another round. She smiles, kisses him on the cheek, and decides that Hogsmeade maybe isn’t all that boring after all.


	24. Try a Little Tenderness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well?” she asks, popping one hand on her hip. “What are you waiting for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wee bit of a disclaimer. Though Remus and Elsea both imply that "sex" is only male/female intercourse, we know that sex can be many different things. Our characters have some outdated ideas about gender and sexuality. But with that, we hope you enjoy this monumental chapter. Some "big" things happen. Cheers!

Remus is sitting in Potions two weeks after their Hogsmeade date merely tapping his quill lazily on the counter during a Slughorn lecture about some needless potion when Elsea first asks him to have sex.

 

They’d talked about it a little bit. They’d be in the middle of a hookup and Elsea would mention something about  _ sex sex _ , you know, penis into vagina sort of thing, and Remus would either clam up a little bit or keep kissing her. It’s not like he isn’t ready to have sex, or doesn’t want to, because Merlin,  _ he wants to _ . Having sex with Elsea Holmes is the number one thing in the entire world he wants to do. More than not being a werewolf anymore.

 

It’s just also the number one thing in the world that he currently thinks he’ll be shite at. He’s only had  _ sex  _ sex like once with Willow, and since then he’s just sort of, well,  _ not. _ Elsea, on the other hand, has had a lot of sex. Good sex, he thinks, from the way she used to flippantly tell him about it on their prefect rounds. She’s going to expect a certain level of expertise, understanding.

 

There’s no bloody way he’s going to ask Sirus about it either. 

 

The note lands swiftly on his desk and there is his name and a little heart in Elsea’s curly handwriting. He opens it, thinking it has to be a note talking shit about Anya or Sirius or someone. Instead, he finds the message:  _ Let’s have sex. Now. _

 

Remus doesn’t know what to do with it. Both because he’s hard at just the thought and he’s wearing rather thin fabric trousers, and because Elsea is staring at him with one strand of her blonde hair curled around her finger, expectantly. 

 

Suddenly his mind is filled with images of Elsea, naked and vixen-like, spread out on his four-poster bed with nothing but soft white furs around her. Her breasts, her hips, her thighs, her stomach, it’s almost too much until he’s faced with the image of himself standing before her, also naked, unable to perform.

 

When James places a hand on his shoulder, Remus startles from his day dream. His face shifts to a magnificent shade of pink and James cracks a confused grin. “What, you thinking of Holmes naked?”

 

“No,” he responds, though it’s not convincing. For once, however, Remus is thankful that James is not Sirius, because James has enough tact to just pat him again on the shoulder and turn back to the lecture.

 

Remus spares a glance towards Elsea, who is still looking at him, this time also smirking. She tips her head to the side, raises an eyebrow, and nods towards the paper currently crushed in his fist.

 

He puts the note in his pocket and stares ahead. It’s not a yes, but it’s certainly not a no. He resolves not to answer her yet, which he knows is dangerous territory, but it’s better than jumping in too quickly. So instead he just smiles at her (a weak smile, a particularly pathetic one at best) and then looks down at his textbook.

 

He can feel her glare on the top of his head. If looks could kill, he’d be castrated and dead at the bottom of the Great Lake by now. His dick probably, like, hanging from the astronomy tower. As a warning. 

 

Even at that thought his dick practically shrivels up, if that’s even possible. Merlin, this cycle of performance anxiety is really getting to him. Just at the  _ thought _ of sex with his  _ girlfriend _ .

 

“Psst, Moony.” Remus feels a poke in his side. He’s so squeamish that he visibly reacts, twisting spastically around and knocking James’ mug of tea off the counter and smashing to the ground. 

 

“Fuck!” he cries. The entire class stops and turns to him. Including his girlfriend. 

 

“Moony, man!” James cries. “You broke my favourite mug!”

 

“Just  _ repairo _ it, idiot,” Anya Darzi replies. Remus wants to  _ repairo _ her.

 

“Excuse me?” Anya then says, and Remus has no idea why. “Did you just say you want to  _ repairo _ me?”

 

“I-”

 

Remus has no idea where to go from here. 

 

“I guess.”

 

Slughorn is trying to take control of the classroom, flapping his hands around in a manner that makes Sirius buckle over from laughter. Most of the class is ignoring them both and fixated on Remus, Anya, and, because of course, she has to be the center of attention, Elsea.

 

“You know what? You don’t look well,” Elsea chimes in, standing up suddenly. “I should take you to the infirmary.”

 

“What? No!” Remus says much louder than he intended to. He shoots Elsea a warning glare but she’s in-character. Once she has her mind set on something, there’s little to nothing that could stop her.

 

“You’re positively flushed, Remus,” she insists, turning on her heel to face Slughorn. “Please, would Remus act out like this normally? Let me take him to Madam Pomfrey.”

 

Slughorn, who apparently knows Remus’ everyday, typical demeanor, nods fervently. “I think you’re right Miss Holmes, why don’t you help collect his things and escort him to the Hospital Wing? Really, Mr. Lupin, you look awful.”

 

Remus doesn’t have time to be insulted because soon enough Elsea is scooping his things into his bag and then taking him by the arm and escorting him out of the classroom. Remus shoots one desperate look over his shoulder to his mates, who he finds all pouring over Elsea’s note (which happened to be the one thing that  _ didn’t _ make it into his bag) and laughing their arses off.

 

The door closes behind them and Elsea turns to face him in an instant.

 

“So?” she asks.

 

“So?” he repeats back to her. 

 

“ _ So _ ?”

 

This time, Remus doesn’t echo her. Instead, he scratches the back of his neck and starts walking down the hall. There is only one thing to do, now.

 

“Are you fucking serious?” Elsea asks, trailing behind him. “You’re really going to go to the Hospital Wing? Now?”

 

Remus smirks. 

 

“No, I’m heading to Gryffindor tower,” Remus tells her. Elsea looks genuinely surprised. “I’m not that much of an idiot.”  

 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Elsea says, because she always has to have the last word. “You’ve been dancing around this for weeks now. And of course, if you didn’t really want to have sex I wouldn’t have bothered. But it just sort of seems like--”  

 

“Maybe I was waiting for the perfect time?” he offers, turning around on his heels, walking backward. Merlin, he’s trying to do what  _ Sirius _ would do. If this isn’t rock bottom, he doesn’t know what is.

 

“Oh,” Elsea laughs, catching up to him, “Remus Lupin, I had no idea you were such a romantic.”

 

He forces a laugh. Elsea tips her head to the side. He trips at the start of the stairs, manages to catch himself, and Elsea laughs even louder.

 

“You know, you’re not fooling anyone.”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

She just sticks her tongue out at him. Maybe it’s just that he’s made this decision in a moment of panic, but just the visual of Elsea sticking her tongue out at him gives him a half-chub. An anxiety chub, sure, but a chub nonetheless. She doesn’t notice it, or at least she pretends not to and merely leans forward to press a kiss to his lips.

 

They finally get to the tower entrance and Remus is sweating like he’s just completed a marathon. Elsea takes his hand, just because, and pulls it away immediately.

 

“Holy shit,” she says, giggling. “Your hands are  _ soaked _ .”

 

There is absolutely nothing Remus can say that can save himself at this point.

 

So he takes his gross, clammy hands, and grabs her face and kisses her. 

 

“Gross!” she cries, but she doesn’t pull away.

 

They stumble into the common room, Remus opens his left eye for whatever reason but thank Merlin he does. The room is full of first year boys doing God knows what, just watching them, jaws on the floor. 

 

Elsea doesn’t notice and enthusiastically keeps it going, pinching his bum playfully. Remus pulls back, face bright red, and attempts to silently apologize to the room of children. That’s when he realizes that they’re not upset with him, but instead are entirely transfixed on the fact that  _ Elsea Holmes _ was just snogging someone in their very own common room. 

 

Meanwhile, Elsea hasn’t noticed. Rather than looking around the common room, she stares directly at Remus, angry.

 

“Oh, what are you afraid of  _ now _ ?”

 

Now this whole thing has gone from slightly embarrassing, to utterly humiliating.

 

Luckily, Remus is quick. 

 

“The room of first year boys watching us.”

 

Still very clearly pissed, Elsea turns to take a look, finally.

 

“Fuck off,” she tells them harshly with no hesitance. 

 

A brave one, Remus thinks his name is Gil Clemmons, quietly replies, “But we were here first.”

 

“Unless you want to be the reason for nine eleven-year-old boners, I say we go somewhere else,” Remus says, shifting on his feet. Elsea shoots him a glare, and then redirects said glare to Gil Clemmons.

 

All nine of the first years duck their heads into their textbooks. Elsea scoffs triumphantly, grabs Remus’ sweaty hands for the second time, and tugs him up the stairs towards his dormitory.

 

She shuts the door behind them and Remus is suddenly reminded of just what he’s come to do. And without alcohol. Sober. Sober sex with Elsea Holmes. 

 

He looks desperately around the room. No one is there, obviously all in Potions. It’s an absolute disgusting mess, with James’ dirty socks scattered across the floor and Peter’s candy wrappers lining the windowsill. 

 

Speaking of the windowsill, there is just so much damn light. So much damn natural sunlight. Elsea is going to see everything.  _ Everything _ .

 

He’s so busy thinking about all of this that he doesn’t even realize Elsea has marched over to his bed and thrown all his books and papers to the floor in a mess.

 

He opens his mouth to protest, to chastise her for just throwing his things around, but he doesn’t get the chance because she looks his right in the eye and pulls her jumper right over her head.

 

His mouth nearly drops to the floor as her two perfect, perky tits pop out. 

 

“Well?” she asks, popping one hand on her hip. “What are you waiting for?”

 

He honestly doesn’t know.

 

Remus stumbles over Sirius’ backup broom, just lying in the middle of the floor, and makes his way over to her. He grabs her face and kisses her, roughly, because at this point everything is too manic to make it romantic or sexy. Instead, he just snogs the living daylights out of her.

 

But it’s Elsea, and so she expertly moves his hand from her cheek onto her tit. And suddenly he’s massaging her boob and kissing her and she’s sliding her hands underneath his own jumper, cool fingers tickling his waistband. His stomach sucks in involuntarily at the contact, a combination of her cold touch and his nerves that  _ still _ haven’t gone away. He’s thinking about absolutely everything he’s doing at once, hyper-aware of both of their actions. It’s painful.

 

She spins them so that she’s leaning against the bed. Remus helps lift her, puts his hands underneath her bum and lifting her to sit. She wraps her legs around his waist and tugs him closer. He takes a moment away from kissing her lips to press kisses down her neck and to her collar bones. He hovers a moment above her tits, and Elsea gently pushes down his head to signal her approval, and he takes one of her nipples in his mouth.

 

He doesn’t exactly know what to do with it, so he just sort of sucks on it. Elsea giggles then moans a little. He supposes she likes it then and moves his way to the other.

 

She wraps her fingers into his hair. He likes that. He lifts his head to look her in the eyes, and she’s already flushed with her mouth ajar, and staring down at him with a certain hunger that he’s never really seen before. And then he’s hard. He’s hard as fucking hell.

 

“Okay,” Elsea says, just a little breathless. “I’m just going to let you know now that it’s been awhile for me, too.”

 

Remus nods, and though he feels his entire body relax at that, he just goes back to doing what they were doing before. He really likes Elsea. He can’t think of anyone he’d rather be with in this world than her.

 

He remembers Sirius telling him this once, and though it pains him to say it, sometimes Sirius really does know what’s best. So he asks, “Elsea, tell me what you want.”

 

She sort of does a little gasp and blushes. “Holy shit, Remus.”

 

Dammit, Sirius was  _ totally _ right.

 

“Tell me what you want,” he insists, kissing her between her tits. Elsea tightens her legs around his waist. He continues kissing down her stomach until he’s kneeling on the floor and looking up at her from between her legs. She’s still wearing her skirt and tights, but he sees her little black oxfords kicked off beside him. 

 

It’s the sexiest she’s ever been. 

 

“Go down on me,” she says, breathing. “If you want.”

 

“I want to,” he insists. 

 

This, he’s done before.

 

He slowly brings his fingers down across her stomach to the zipper on her skirt. He slowly unzips it, kissing her navel as he went. Slowly, but surely, Remus pulls her skirt down and tosses it on the floor by her shoes. She’s left in her tights, and, to his surprise  _ no knickers _ .

 

“ _ Elsea _ ,” he breathes out, “ _ fuck. _ ”

 

She just giggles and shrugs. “Well get on with it then.”

 

There’s the Elsea he knows and loves. (He only gives the  _ love _ bit a single moment’s thought before wrapping his fingers around the waistband of her tights and yanking them off.)

 

And suddenly she’s before him, really in all her glory, and he just looks up at her face. She’s  _ blushing _ again, and he has to stand up and kiss her lips first. “Get comfortable,” he says, and Elsea moves a bit, laying her back down on the bed. Remus just smiles for a moment before hooking his arms around her upper thighs and pressing a hot kiss on her inner thigh. She jerks a just little at that.

 

His trousers are restricting his now throbbing dick, and he uses one hand to unzip them before pressing another kiss to her clit.

 

It’s only a few minutes that he’s down there, making her shift and moan lightly before she grabs his head and yanks him up. She’s sitting up, panting, and says, “Remus, take your fucking trousers off already.”

 

He obeys quickly. She helps him take his jumper off. And then she bitches at him to “take your fucking socks off Remus,  _ Merlin _ .” Soon he’s matching her, naked. It’s was a bit of struggle, but Remus is too fucked to care. By the time he takes his trousers off, his cock is ridiculously hard, and Elsea smiles at it.

 

“You psycho,” he says.

 

“Hello, old pal,” she says, grabbing his hips to pull him closer and kissing his mouth. She then places one hand around the base of his cock and strokes it softly. “How do you wanna do this?” she asks, between kisses. 

 

“What do you mean?” He knows he wants to put it in her, that’s for sure.

 

“What position, idiot,” she says, pushing him back a little and glaring. “What  _ sexual position _ .”

 

He gapes at her. He didn’t even think of that. When he first had sex with Willa they just sort of went for traditional missionary until he pulled out and came into the condom. Willa wasn’t on the pill. Fuck, is Elsea on the pill? 

 

“Are you on the pill?” he asks. 

 

She blinks at him. “Well of fucking course I am, Remus. It’s 1979, for fuck’s sake.”

 

He nods. “Condom?”

 

“Have you got a venereal disease I don’t know about?” 

 

“No,” he rebuffs. “But if you get pregnant our child might be half-wolf.”

 

“Then no. It feels better that way anyway,” she sings, almost. Remus nearly bugs his eyes out.  _ No fucking condom.  _

 

He goes to kiss her again but she pushes him back. 

 

“What?” he asks, desperate to touch her again.

 

“Well? You never answered my question. What  _ sexual position _ ?”

 

Remus has no idea.

 

“I don’t fucking care,” Remus tells her. “It’s all good to me.”

 

She tips her head to the side as if she’s literally contemplating which sex position. Then she pulls him closer and kisses him. She whispers, “I just want you inside me, really.”

 

Remus probably would have jizzed then if he hadn’t known Elsea would literally kill him. He keeps kissing her, pushing her up onto the bed. Then he says, “Let’s just do you on your back first. See how it feels. Then maybe?”

 

She nods. Elsea pushes herself back on the bed and lays down. He climbs on top of her, grabs his dick, and leans down to kiss her. 

 

“Wait,” Elsea says. “You have any lube?”

 

“Uhh,” Remus shakes his head, “no.” He imagines Sirius has some somewhere, but he’s not about to go grab Sirius’ lube. Instead, he just spits into his hand and grabs his cock.

 

“Remus,” Elsea gasps. “What the fuck?”

 

He blushes. He stops. He panics. “Um?”

 

She shakes her head. “Whatever. It’s fine. We’ll get lube next time.”

 

_ Next time _ .

 

He levels himself towards her, but she grabs his dick before he can do it himself, and slides him into her.

 

“Fuck,” he moans and falls a little bit into her shoulder. He kisses her neck once he gets used to  _ how fucking good she feels _ , and then slowly and surely moves inside of her.

 

“Yeah, that’s good,” she whispers. 

 

“You okay?” he asks, kissing her neck again. “You doing alright?”

 

“Remus, I’m doing so well,” she says, tipping her head back. “Go faster, though.”

 

He does. It feels so fucking good. Elsea wraps her arms around his body and kisses his shoulder. He’s fucking her, like literally,  _ he’s fucking Elsea Holmes _ .

 

“You know what would be hot?” she asks, digging her nails into his back. “If you fucked me from behind.”

 

It doesn’t take Remus long after she’s turned herself on all fours and looks over her shoulder at him as he puts himself back inside of her. He has to pull out quickly, spilling himself all over her back. She yells at him for just a moment as he falls onto the bed next to her. 

 

“Remus, your cum is on my back. I can’t move.”

 

“Oh, fuck,” he grumbles and then, using all the energy he has, grabs some tissues from beside his bed. He wipes off her back and then Elsea falls over next to him.

 

It’s awkward for ten seconds before Remus breaks the silence.

 

“Don’t be discouraged,” he says, he can barely breathe but it has to be said. “We have the rest of the afternoon and all night for you.”

 

Elsea, who looked slightly irritated, smiles.

 

“Well, I think it’s only fair that I get two of those next time. You know, because of sexism and stuff.”

 

Remus just laughs a little, then nods, and leans over to kiss her. 

 

“Anything for you.”

 

-.-

  
  


Archie doesn’t know what he’s doing. He just saw Anya alone, hanging up some sort of poster for S.A.P.S., and couldn’t walk away. But he also couldn’t just go talk to her, because that would leave her room to reject him, and if Archie has learned anything in the last month or so it’s that he can’t handle rejection. 

 

So he’s standing around the corner, thinking, pretending to read a textbook. It’s pathetic, really. Anya used to come up to him all the time, just bounce on over in her striped sweaters and pose meaningless questions. They were always able to talk about something, but now that it’s important to Archie’s life he can’t remember one conversation or one inside joke. It’s like the slate was wiped clean. They’re strangers.

 

That’s when he shakes his head at himself.  _ No, Archie, you’re being dramatic _ . Is it weird that the voice of reason in his head sounds hauntingly like Elsea’s when she slaps his fingers away from his mouth? Either way, it’s right. He’s being dramatic.

 

Anya is a simple girl. Easy to read, smart, pretty, short. Nothing that would’ve intimidated him before. So why now? Just act like nothing happened and ask how she is, Archie. Smile at her like she’s Maeve Daniels, Archie. Remember who you are, Archie. 

 

Archie is now walking. He’s approaching her. She’s facing away, still messing with the sign. 

 

Then she turns around, and he stops in his tracks. They stare at each other for what feels like a century.

 

“Uh?” Anya says, and even though she looks annoyed at his very presence, she looks just as curious. He takes that to be a good sign.

 

Archie opens his mouth to say “hey,” but nothing comes out.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

That was definitely not, “hey.”

 

Anya’s eyes widen. “Wait,  _ what? _ ”

 

Too late to turn back now.

 

“I’m sorry,” Archie says. He doesn’t even remember the last time he apologized to someone like this. “I’m an arsehole.”

 

Anya doesn’t speak, her expression doesn’t even  _ change _ , so Archie continues.

 

“I treated you terribly and I shouldn’t have. And I miss you, and I think that if I weren’t such an idiot we could’ve, you know, worked together or something. I’m not good at this, but I’m really sorry. I actually am.”

 

More silence.

 

“That’s all.”

 

Anya, again, stares at him. She looks absolutely  _ horrified _ and  _ dumbstruck _ . Archie doesn’t really know what to do, mostly because he didn’t even think he had the emotional capacity to apologize, let alone push this further. 

 

So he just shrugs and says, “Well, catch ‘ya later Darzi.”

 

He mentally kicks himself as he spins on his heels and nearly runs out of the corridor. This crisis of confidence he’s having needs to end, maybe he’ll find someone he knows will respond, fuck his problem out like he’s used to. But he doesn’t have much time to think about what a fool he made himself because he nearly knocks himself straight into Elsea.

 

“Watch it!” she yells. Then she straightens out and notices it’s him. “Oh, hey Arch.”

 

“You look like you were just fucked.” He says it before he even realizes. Merlin, he’s been doing that a lot today.

 

She does. Her hair is greasy and messy, makeup is smudged under her eyes. But there was no way she was crying or sick because she’s actually glowing. Walking about the corridors smiling to herself like she has a really dirty secret to tell.

 

“Thank you,” Elsea says, voice light as air. Then she  _ curtseys _ . “You look like you’ve been punched in the gut. I love you.”

 

Archie doesn’t think he’s ever heard her say that before. She looks like she just took three of her magical ludes and then got her brains fucked out. Maybe that’s exactly what happened, though. He wouldn’t put it past her. 

 

“Thanks,” he replies, squeezing one of her shoulders. She is absolutely elated with herself, he could say he just murdered someone and she wouldn’t notice. 

 

“Any time, Archdukey.”

 

It’s getting too weird.

 

“Yeah, well, I’m running away from my problems right now. So I’ll catch you later.”

 

Elsea just beams at him. “Of course!”

 

Weird. Weird. Weird.

 

Archie hurries past her and around the corridor. 

 

There is absolutely nothing for him to do. He should make other friends, ones he actually likes or something. But of course, that would require effort, and he’s worn out from an extensive smoke session that went way past his expectations with Jason and Fernando. It was actually Red Eye stuff. Which would get him axed by Elsea, but she doesn’t have to know that. 

 

Besides, she’s too much in an actual sex daze to wrap her head around High Roller stuff.

 

He can’t help but think about the fact that Elsea and  _ Lupin _ just fucked. He thought this day would never come, and he can’t even be happy for her because he’s such an emotionally deranged twat. 

 

“Archie!”

 

Archie turns around. Holy shit.

 

“Anya?” 

 

She’s running after him, dramatically, like his internal monologue has been all day. 

 

“I was waiting for Elsea to pass, but I think we should talk.” She catches up to him, standing close. “Just us two.”

 

“I mean I wasn’t going to include her in the conversation,” Archie replies. “But, uh, go on.”

 

“No I mean, really. I don’t want Elsea to be involved.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean I don’t want her knowing about this.”

 

“Knowing about what?”

 

Anya stomps her foot in frustration.

 

“Holy fuck, Archie, is it that hard to follow? Clearly, I still have-” she lowers her voice for this part “- _ feelings for you _ .”

 

Archie’s stomach lurches in a good way. One of the corners of his mouth twitches up uncontrollably. 

 

Is this what it’s like? An emotion?

 

“You do?” Archie says, whispering for whatever reason. “Because Elsea told me you called me a pigheaded ostrich who doesn’t know anything about love.”

 

Anya looks frustrated, and maybe Archie shouldn’t have sold Elsea out like that, but he has a feeling that it’s not that deep.

 

“I was angry,” Anya explains herself, holding intense eye contact. She takes both of his hands. “I thought you weren’t into it but I get it now. We’re...  _ big _ , you freaked out. And I forgive you, I think I forgave you the moment it happened, honestly. I know it’s wrong but... you just said everything I could’ve wanted you to say and I can’t ignore it.”

 

Archie nods his head, waiting for to go on. Tell him what’s really going to happen.

 

But she doesn’t say a word. She just holds his hands, stares at him like she’s the one that’s waiting. Archie clears his throat, tilts his head to the side and nods his head. Maybe he should just kiss her?

 

So he leans in and she leans back.

 

“Wait,” Anya says. “I’m with Sirius.”

 

“Oh fuck, I forgot.” That’s the truth.

 

Anya giggles. “So did I, for a second.”

 

Archie still wants to kiss her. He wants to kiss her so  _ bad _ . She’s always applying this muggle cherry lip balm that tastes delicious (he may have tried out without her knowing) and she’s probably wearing it right now. Plus she’s Anya, and Anya might be The One. And yes, it’s a bit early for that, but he’d rather not lose her. 

 

And anyway, he fucking hates Sirius Black.

 

“Who cares about Black?” Archie offers. 

 

It’s like Anya thinks about the question for a moment but can’t come up with an answer. 

 

“Screw it?” she says, quietly.

 

“Alright by me,” Archie replies. At this point, he’d do anything she told him to do. He probably quit Quidditch. And weed. Well, probably not weed.

 

He leans in, and she leans away one more time.

 

“What  _ now _ ?” he asks. Their faces are so close together that he can feel her eyelashes when she blinks. It’s amazing. His heart is  _ racing _ .

 

“This stays between us. No Elsea,” Anya tells him, she doesn’t even smile.

 

The last thing Archie is thinking about is Elsea.

 

“Elsea who?” Archie jokes. 

 

“Very funny.”

 

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

 

Anya swallows. Archie wonders if this is just as big for her as it is for him. 

 

And for the first time out of her daydreams, Archie Blackwater wraps one arm around Anya Darzi’s waist, pulling her towards him, and kisses her in the broad daylight.

 


End file.
